


Where The Story Begins

by MidnightCity



Series: All Of Our Stories [1]
Category: Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: (they get together after the first quarter of the story), Established Relationship, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-05-14 18:42:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 101
Words: 142,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5754070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightCity/pseuds/MidnightCity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story that follows Jeremy's and James' relationship through the years. </p><p>(inspired by a 100 Writing Prompts Challenge)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

In 2000 James had done something stupid: he had confessed to no other than Jeremy Clarkson that he was getting lonely.

One year prior Jeremy had gotten him out of hospital, and James had needed time for himself. Momentarily James had kept away from all sorts of relationship; men or women. Now it was catching up with him. His flat seemed too empty, his friends were far and few in between, most of them were in relationships and James never felt comfortable tagging along as the single man …

Than there was Jeremy; who just couldn't back down when someone presented a challenge to him. James had involuntarily done so. A week later the call had come in. Jeremy had another acquaintance who might work for James: Robert.

Jeremy had explained that James came out of a complicated relationship and that he should take things easy. Furthermore James had been uneasy with the idea of meeting a stranger alone, hence Jeremy came along. The idea had been to meet at the pub and just spend a day together. Nothing romantic yet, they could do the romance alone.

As the night progressed things were going well. Jeremy had been right, Robert was right up _'his street'_ and they got along smoothly. James began to relax after a while and the two men left Clarkson alone.

 

* * *

 

Jeremy only meant to make a brief stop at the loo before he would leave the pub. He opened the door and found James leaning over the bathroom sink, taking deep breaths.

Jeremy frowned “Are you all right?” he asked, stepping closer.

He was careful to keep his hands to himself, knowing that James was edgy when it came to touch.

“No, yes, no, no. Yes. I don't know,” came a hurried reply.

“What's wrong?”

“I don't know.”

Jeremy frowned and gently tipped his shoulder. This made James look up and he saw despair on his face. One that must mirror on Jeremy's as well.

“Has Robert done something stupid?”

“No,” James admitted and started to talk to his feet. “He's … good. Who would have thought that you had such nice friends.”

Jeremy snorted but didn't reply, so James could collect his thoughts.

“It's … I don't think I can ...” James stumbled over his words, clearly embarrassed. “It's going too well ...”

“Too well?”

“I just … I want to … but ...” James clenched his hands in frustration.

“Want what?” Jeremy asked, just to make sure.

James bit his lip, letting out a breath. _It sounds so stupid_. “Kiss him … I think he wants to.”

“Okay.” Jeremy had thought along those lines.

“I know it's stupid.”

“It isn't.” Jeremy knew that that was not a moment to tease him.

James let out a breath and laughed weakly.

“What are you scared off? It's just a kiss,” Jeremy asked. “You know how that works.”

“It's … I haven't kissed anyone since ….” James took a deep breath and Jeremy indicated that he could go on. “I'm not scared of the kiss … it's the after. How I'll react.”

“Oh.” Jeremy cleared his throat. “Do you want to ...”

“Yes.”

Jeremy bit his lip. This was an absurd conversation. Especially between these two …

“You know that he knows that you had a bit of a complicated relationship prior. He'll ...”

“Nicely put,” James huffed but nodded. That was the first time James stopped looking at his feet. “And yes, but I don't want to … I just don't know.”

“I guess there is no other way around it.”

James sighed as a reply. “Maybe I should just go home.”

“No, no, no.” Jeremy gently held James in place. Enough to keep him there but not hard enough to frighten him. “You said you wanted to.”

“Yes,” James replied.

“Stop being so chicken-hearted. Do it.”

“But I don't know what to do.”

“You've done it before. It's not that different.”

“Yeah, but ...”

“Oh, sod it,” Jeremy cut him off.

Before James could even think about a question he wanted to ask, Jeremy was kissing him. He had gently placed one hand on his cheek and just … kissed him. It was wonderful, surprisingly gentle, James had to admit.

Soon James had recovered from the shock of being kissed. Most of all being kissed by Jeremy bloody Clarkson! He found himself holding onto his shoulders and kissed back.

They broke apart and for a moment Jeremy caught his breath and smugly stated. “See? Easy.” Then he took a step back and nodded. “Go, get your man.” and gently pushed James out of the door.

That was the moment which showed James three things: One: that he could still kiss people, even men. Second: that Jeremy was a surprisingly good kisser, not that he often thought about that. Third: while at that moment he hadn't realized it he wanted to kiss him again.

However, James quickly and swiftly ignored that feeling, even banished the idea. After all Jeremy was a happily married man, with another child on the way. And it would never work ...

_This had meant nothing_ , James told himself. For Jeremy it must have been just that. A favour for a mate. Just like a hug. It was his way of showing James that he wasn't broking, that he was fixed. Jeremy being Jeremy couldn't have come up with a better way …

 


	2. Challenge

James was pacing. Up and down. Up and down. Then he checked his hair in the mirror. Again. He was walking up and down. Again. In the small production cabin, clenching his fists. Just trying to keep the nervousness down. It was not like it would his very first TV appearance.

Still he found himself pacing nervously. His hands shaking. People would only see that. Only the shaking hands. James bit his lip.

Why did he ever say yes? Why the hell did he even go to the casting? Why had he allowed Clarkson and Hammond to talk him into making _Top Gear_? It's not like they weren't already three of them. But James knew that Jeremy had preferred him over Dawe. It didn't help that James had overheard Jeremy risking the show by getting James instead.

James couldn't do that. All that pressure. He wasn't good enough. There was a reason why his former television appearances had never worked. Then again he had gone to the casting in the first place … and hadn't been accepted.

James grunted and clenched his fists again. He shook his hand trying to will the nervousness out of his body.

“That won't make them think you're less camp than you are.”

“What!?” James turned around rapidly. His body relaxed a little when he saw Jeremy standing behind him, a smug smile on his face.

“Clarkson.”

“May.” Jeremy stepped into the cabin, and shut the door behind him. “I was sent to collect you. We're ready in ten minutes.”

“Okay,” James just mumbled, clenching his fists again.

“Nervous?”

“Yeah,” he breathed helplessly.

“Since when is James May nervous?” Jeremy teased him as he stepped closer.

“I don't know,” James blurted out. “Since now!”

Jeremy laughed and shook his head. “We can always do retakes,” Jeremy tried to calm him. “Come on, you don't suffer from stage fright.”

Jeremy had known James while working together on old _Top Gear_ , and although, yes, James had worked in the background it had never stopped him from making a fool of himself. Or drive a Smart to Germany just to put the most camp colouring on it he could find. Or even speaking up against someone. Often that someone was Clarkson.

“Until now, I didn't,” James deadpanned.

Jeremy took another step closer. “James ...” James looked up, Clarkson's voice sounded surprisingly soft. That wasn't very Clarkson. Even though if James was honest he knew that Jeremy could be gentle; then he saw Clarkson bite his own lip. “If your hands are twitchy put them in your trousers pockets.”

James frowned for a moment, that wasn't the piece of helpful advice he had been hoping for. “All right.” He did as he was told. He felt stiff, like that was the most unnatural thing one could ever do.

“Relax your shoulders,” Jeremy instructed. James took a deep breath and tried to do as told. “God, you're hopeless.”

James' shoulders sagged. At least that relaxed them … sort of. “Thanks.”

“Come on, I was teasing,” Jeremy explained as he circled James. “May I?”

“Yes?” James wasn't sure what the man was doing behind his back. “Ouch!” James let out a yelp as he felt Jeremy's thumbs digging painfully into his shoulders. “What the fuck do you think you're doing?”

“Shush,” Jeremy muttered but stopped the abuse.

James rolled his shoulders, and suddenly the way he was holding himself felt more natural. “I … erm ...” James looked at his feet. “How the hell did you do that?”

Jeremy casually slung his arm around James' shoulders. “I have magical hands, mate.”

“You really don't.” James shook his head. “Thank you.”

“Welcome.” Jeremy's hand slipped. He walked across the floor and leant against the table.

“Now, what is it? It's not the audience.”

“No, not really,” James admitted. He took a breath and sat on the table next to Jeremy, hoping that it wouldn't collapse under their weight.

“Just first time fright?” Jeremy asked.

“A little”

Jeremy nudged James' side. “What is it?”

“Why did you choose me?”

“Pardon?”

James huffed some air. “After a series. You already had a presenter. Why did you choose me?”

Jeremy shook his head. “Because I wanted you from the start. Andy did too. We have a better chemistry,” he explained. “ God, why does this sound like we're dating?”

James laughed quietly and shook his head. “... but the BBC didn't even want me.”

“I do. And that's because you're a good journalist and presenter. We could make a brilliant one out of you,” Jeremy added, trying to tease him.

It worked, James felt a knot in his stomach undo. He took a deep breath wondering if he'd regret the next thing. “I heard what you said to Wilman.”

Jeremy bit his lip. “Well, shit,” he simply stated. “I actually didn't want you to know that.”

“How can you even do that?” James kicked his leg. “What a stupid idea!”

“It'll work. I'm not worried,” Jeremy explained calmly.

“You bet your television career on the gamble that it will work better with me.”

“It will!” Jeremy stated again. “Stop kicking me.”

James laughed despite himself. Pretending to be reluctant he tucked his legs in.

“I didn't want you to know that because it would make you too nervous.” Then he pointed at him. “And it has. Now stop it.”

James huffed, his feet looked far more interesting.

“May, you'll do just fine,” Jeremy muttered, he pushed himself off the table and looked at James. Only after a while did James look up, seeing a brutal honesty in Jeremy's eyes. Smiling weakly James nodded. “Do you want a shot of vodka to relax you?”

James laughed and shook his head. “Do you have some?”

“Now that I think about it, we actually do.”

“I think I'll pick you up on that afterwards.”

Jeremy nodded. “As you wish.” Then he tugged on James' arm. “Come on, we're doing some shooting now.”

 


	3. Surgery

Just two weeks ago - while shooting in Iceland - Jeremy and James had shared a room. The shooting had been at the end of the series, so money was short. It always was by the end.

 _That would never change,_ James mused as he slipped in bed next to Jeremy. The other man was already lying in it, head comfortably resting on the pillow.

“Do you think it was a good clip?” Jeremy asked, his voice heavy with sleep.

James shrugged his shoulders. “Yes. And if not we can always joke that Hammond makes up for it with his water going whatever that is.”

Jeremy chuckled and turned over. “Right, good night.”

“Night,” James muttered and his head hit the pillow.

He was glad that Jeremy could share a bed with him. After James had told him that he also fancied men, he had feared that it would take a turn for the worse: Jeremy would stop touching him so freely - he would miss the pat on the back -, he would stop making bad jokes - yes, there were rough topics but Jeremy never went there -, and the thing that would have bothered him the most that wouldn't share a bed.

It wasn’t a romantic, or a sexual thing, it was just two blokes sharing a bed. But it meant that Jeremy trusted him. The topic had come up a few series prior and Jeremy just shrugged his shoulders, lay down and said “As long as you don’t bum me, I’m happy.” James smiled at the memory and soon fell asleep as well.

The next morning a gentle ring brought him out of dreamland. There was movement on the other side of the bed, a grunt and Jeremy hurriedly reached for the phone.

“Hello,” James heard Jeremy’s voice.

 _Not good then,_ James concluded as he heard the strain in his voice. James sleepily sat up and only saw Jeremy rush out of the room. James fought his way out of blankets and followed.

“Clarkson?” he called after him.

“All right, thank you,” James heard his voice, grave and heavy with worry as he hung up.

James stood next to him, not saying a word. _What should he ask?_ He didn’t even know what could be wrong. It could be anything. Instead of saying something stupid, he just stood next to him. Waiting …

“That was Katya's doctor,” Jeremy began quietly. “The Little One had some problems with breathing for a while. That was the doctor, she almost collapsed during the night.”

James swallowed hard. “Asthma?” Now he began to worry as well. Katya was only a small girl, not even five years old.

Jeremy shrugged his shoulders. “Most likely, that’d be the least worst.”

There was another silence, James wanted to do something. Give him a hug, pat his shoulder, he knew that Jeremy thought everything could be healed with a touch. However, James was hopelessly at this.

“They’re going to make some tests,” Jeremy broke the silence, and James nodded.

“What’s the worst case?”

Jeremy took a deep breath and James saw how his shoulders sagged. “Surgery.”

 

* * *

 

When James got the message, he wasn’t really surprised about the content. He didn’t know how Jeremy must be feeling right now. Something like this had been expected for a while. While the possibility had been there nobody involved wanted to think that it could come to this. James didn't even know why Jeremy kept him informed, but ever since the conversation in Iceland he had told him about every step they took. Maybe Jeremy just wanted to have someone he could go to who was standing on the outside.

Jeremy's text was simple but contained all the information he needed : _Surgery, am at Charing Cross._

It was all the information James need to jump into his car and drive there. Luckily he had little trouble finding the Clarkson family. Taking a deep breath he gently knocked on the door and peeked inside.

“Jezza?” he whispered.

“She's asleep,” came the reply and James stepped in.

Francie wasn’t there, in fact nobody but Jeremy was at the bedside. It didn’t look good, there were tubes all over the small body, a mask that helped her breath, and a monitor that gave regularly a soft beep to show that her heart was still beating. Jeremy didn’t look much better, he held Katya's hand, and was slumped into an uncomfortable plastic chair. James quietly took another chair and sat down besides him.

“Want to talk about it?” he asked.

As a reply Jeremy shook his head.

“Where’s Francie?”

“Home, with the children,” he elaborated and shifted in his seat. “Chipping Norton. I get the night shift, she gets the day shift since … work.”

James nodded, and from then on the silence stretched. They couldn’t talk much, Katya was sleeping soundly; it had been introduced with some aid. The doctor had claimed that while she slept the breathing would be easier. So James took care of Jeremy, left a few times for some coffee and tea. Then he came back with sandwiches which were barely touched.

One time Katya woke up and winced in pain, Jeremy gently tried to hush her with comforting words while James got a doctor. Soon she was sleeping again, and the two grown men were planted on their plastic chairs.

“They’re operating tomorrow, first thing in the morning,” James heard Jeremy’s voice. “She has a small hole in the left lung, it caused all of that.”

“Why not today?” James asked gently.

Jeremy shrugged his shoulders. “They don’t want to risk the side effect of operating too early. You know, don’t eat for 12 hours prior, take a piss, et cetera. And it’s not … deadly. At least right now.”

“Any long term effects?”

“Most likely not.” At that he found a weak smile on his lips. Before James could really think about it, he rested his hand on Jeremy’s shoulder.

“Thank you.”

During the night Jeremy’s body had finally given in and he had slumped against James. Awkwardly his head rested against James’ shoulder and the taller man’s shoulder dug into James’ back. James didn't dare to move. At some point fell asleep as well.

“I should make a photo of that and send it to the _Daily Mail_. See what they make of it.” There was laughter from a woman.

“What?” James felt Jeremy move and heard a grunt.

“Nice try, Francie,” Jeremy replied sleepily and James heard the crack his back made as Jeremy stretched.

 

* * *

 

On Sunday morning James went to visit Jeremy in his London flat. Katya's surgery had gone well, there should be no long term effect. During the following week she might feel some pain, but as soon as all was healed the only thing to remind her parents and Katya of that time would be a scar.

Currently, the two Clarksons were staying in London. Francie was in Chipping Norton with the rest of the children, and Katya was only released for the weekend. They thought it might be better if she would stay in London with her father. James bit his lip as he knocked on the door.

 _Jeremy had spent a lot of time in London lately,_ James shook his head, banning the thought before new ones formed. There was no reply so he got the keys out and unlocked the door.

“Clarksons?” he called out quietly, and slipped out of his shoes. He shuffled along the flat: kitchen - empty, living room - empty, there was almost no noise at all. _Still asleep_ , James concluded. Jeremy had barely slept during the week, and Katya … well, had had surgery.

Carefully he placed his bag on the kitchen counter. In that moment he heard some ruffling coming from Jeremy’s bedroom. James moved and looked through the open door. Jeremy had turned and was looking at him, he wasn’t shaved yet and a sleepy smile played on his lips. His arm was softly slung around Katya, who was still sleeping deeply at her father’s side.

James smiled and waved to show that he was roaming the flat. In reply Jeremy lifted his hand and then turned again. He kissed the top of Katya's head, and closed his eyes.

 

* * *

 

Half an hour later, while James was making breakfast for the two, he heard more ruffling and shuffling from the bedroom. He heard Jeremy’s hushed voice followed by soft thuds.

“Morning,” Jeremy muttered as he sat down at the kitchen table. He took the cup of tea waiting for him. “Thank you.”

James turned around, and placed a plate in front of him. “Welcome.”

“Hmm, should have married you,” he muttered as he began to dig into the breakfast. It appeared that he was almost starving.

“Isn’t legal.”

“Will be.”

James smiled weakly. “Mmh, how’s the little Clarkson?”

Jeremy looked at him and shook his head. It took a while until James realised what he had said. They began to laugh quietly, at least until Jeremy hushed them.

“No, Katya's good. She’s holding up,” he replied. James also sat down and began to eat.

“Why was she …”

“Oh, that. She was in pain,” Jeremy explain, his shoulders sagged for a moment. “Couldn’t give her more painkillers, so that was the best option.”

There was another silence until James asked. “Still asleep?”

Jeremy just nodded. “Hey, did you get everything?”

At that the other man piped up. “Yup.”

“DVDs? Games? Tools?”

“Yes.”

 


	4. Disc

“Hang on!” James shouted as he heard the phone ring for the third time.

 _This better be important,_ he thought as he wiped off the oil and reached for the old and battered phone. He picked up without reading what the display said. “What?” He was annoyed. Just when he was so close to fixing the bloody motorcycle.

“James?”

“Yes.” He calmed a little, hearing Clarkson's voice.

“Bad time?” Jeremy asked. James realised that there was something off. He didn't sound like he usually did.

Hence the reply was simple. “No.” James let out a breath, trying to get the tension out of his shoulders. He liked mending motorcycles and catch him at a wrong time he could snap. It was like being in his own small world. “Did you call two times?”

There was slight pause. “Yes, it was ...” then Jeremy broke off.

James waited a beat. “Important?” he asked. If Jeremy was holding back, it wasn't good.

“Yes”

 _Was it about the show? Did something go wrong? What if the BBC had chosen to get rid of James?_ That wasn't too far off. Jeremy had fought blood and sweat to get him on the show. Even thought it was working better with him. BBC logic didn't always make sense.

“All right,” James just replied. He sat down on the sofa, not really caring that he might leave an oily stain on it.

“James, will you just listen first?”

“Yeah.”

There was a stretch of silence. This couldn't be good news ... It was rare that Jeremy asked that of him. Even rarer that he contemplated what to say.

“I was at the doctor today.” James nodded, and had asked his question before he could help himself.

“Everything all right?” _No! Of course not!_ Otherwise he wouldn't have called.

Jeremy let out a weak laugh. “No, my back's discs slipped.”

James swallowed, he just nodded. He heard the man sigh before he went on.

“The doctor said that I'm out for … about 6 months. No writing, no driving.”

“Jezza ...” James began, hoping that some comforting words would come.

“I know, James,” he just replied. “I appreciate what you were about to say.”

James smiled weakly. “What happens now?” he asked.

“Rest my weary bones for six months and hope I won't go mad.” Jeremy sighed. He loved his work, and he loved writing dearly. That was the worst to be taken away from him.

“You could learn an instrument,” James offered weakly.

“Yeah, always wanted to play the drums.”

There was another stretch of silence. If only James knew what to say. Had the roles been reversed Jeremy would coddle him in some nice words, but mostly half-hearted teasing.

“I need to ask a favour of you,” James heard Clarkson's voice after a while.

“I'm all yours.” Then he waited a beat. “You know how I meant that.”

“Yeah, whatever, keep your homosexuality to yourself,” Jeremy replied half-hearted.

“Funny.” James still found a weak smile on his face. “What do you need?”

“I'm still in London until the end of this series. Francie will drive me to Chipping Norton after it's done.” He cleared his throat. “You live in London and I wondered if you could drive me to Guildford for the next few episodes.”

“Sure,” James replied.

“Thank you. I owe you some beer.”

“Yes, you do.” He wanted to reply that he would have done it without the promise of beer, but he couldn't. That would have been wrong.

“Are you in your flat right now?” James asked.

“Yes.”

“Want some company?”

“Mate, if you can bring some pretty ladies over I wouldn't mind,” Jeremy teased him.

“Sadly not,” James deadpanned. “Only myself.”

“Shame. You're as womanly as it's going to get.” Jeremy sighed over-dramatically. “Wouldn't mind you.”

“Half an hour. Just need to get dressed,” James replied, looking at his oily stains and dirty jeans.

“Good god. Don't tell me that we've had this whole conversation with you naked.”

“Then I won't,” James replied. Jeremy was laughing and before he was able to reply with a comeback James had hung up.

 


	5. Gift

Jeremy heard his phone ring in the middle of the night. He rolled onto his side and reached for it helplessly. His eyes weren't even open properly, so it took a few tries until he held it in his hand. It took even longer until he could read the name on the display.

_James May_

Frowning he got out of bed. “It's James,” he explained to Francie, who only looked sleepily at him. “Go back to sleep,” he muttered and saw that she had already turned her back to him. He picked up the phone, but didn't say anything until he had left the bedroom.

“James,” he greeted him and rubbed his face. Carefully he made his way downstairs. “Unless you're drunk this better be good.”

“Sorry, I thought I might wake you,” came from the other end. Jeremy frowned, usually that would be accompanied with certain smugness. “I'm not drunk, by the way.”

“Have you had beer?”

“Yes.”

“How many?” Jeremy turned on the small lamp in his office. Then he sat down in the chair.

“About two.”

 _Okay, he wasn't drunk_. There was another pause, in which Jeremy ordered the pencils according to what was left of them. “Why did you call?” he finally asked. It seemed that he needed to be the one to start the conversation.

A sigh could be heard from James. “Sarah and I … we sort of broke up.”

Jeremy stopped playing with the pencils. “Oh.”

“Oh?” James shot back. “I tell you that the four year relationship between my woman and I ended and all you have to say is ' _oh_ '?!'”

At that moment Jeremy couldn't help but smile a little bit. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Yes, this is horribly dramatic. I know, I know.”

“Clarkson ...” By then even he could notice that James smiled. “You're such an idiot.”

“You're the one who called at one in the morning,” he defended himself. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I think so. That's why I called,” James muttered. “But not the … _oh, my heart is broken. I may never find love again,_ kind. … I'm not good with that.”

“I know,” Jeremy leaned back in his chair. Outside, the garden was quiet, the chicken were happily sleeping in the hut …

James let out a sigh. “We chose to end it about three days ago.”

“Okay,” Jeremy replied, he didn't worry that James hadn't told him at once. He was a very guarded man. It was rare that he ever opened up about something when he wasn't completely done dealing with it. Often even when that was done he didn't, it just was dropped in a conversation from time to time.

“She picked up the rest of her stuff yesterday.”

“Yesterday as in assuming that 1AM isn't a new day?”

“Yes.” James laughed.

“What happened?” Jeremy urged him a little.

There was a pause before James went on. “We … she got a job offer in New York. A really good one. We talked it over. At first she didn't want to take it. However, then rumour spread that her current magazine would cut a few people off or put them on free-lance. You know the gig.”

Jeremy did, he was just lucky that _The Sunday Times_ had chosen to keep him. However, _The Sun_ had put him on free-lance. That didn't really matter, given that he wrote for about three magazines and produced a relatively successful TV show as well.

“New York would be a fixed and quality magazine. Obviously she accepted. I even urged her to, I think. This left a bit of an elephant in the room.”

Jeremy could fill in the rest of the story by himself. Long distance doesn't work; sometimes it was even hard between Francie and him.

“It usually worked with me just being on _Top Gear_. But New York and my job ... We both don't like the idea of long distance anyway. So that was it.”

There was a stretch of silence. “Are you okay?” Jeremy asked quietly.

“I think so,” James replied honestly. “It may take a while.”

“Understandable.”

James sighed. “Can you do me a favour?”

“Anything.” The reply came too quickly. “Well, not anything _anything_. I won't help you wank.”

“Funny, keep your homosexual tendencies to yourself,” James deadpanned while Jeremy was laughing quietly.

“What is it?”

“Can you tell me that I haven't made an incredibly stupid mistake?”

“Well … let's see,” Jeremy began. “Could you forgive yourself if she hadn't gone to New York, would have stayed in London on free-lance, not really earning enough and maybe regretting not taking this job?”

“No.”

“Then yes, I can,” Jeremy answered, his voice softened. “You have not made an incredibly stupid mistake.”

James smiled and nodded, though Jeremy couldn't see that. “You'll be all right again,” he reassured him.

“Thank you.”

“Beer helps. Don't forget that,” Jeremy added quickly.

“I won't.”

They waited for a moment, wondering if either party still had anything to say. Jeremy took a breath. “Do you need something else?”

“No.”

“Okay.” Jeremy got up from his chair. “Don't hesitate to call.”

“Thank you, Clarkson.”

“Get some sleep.”

“Will do.” Then James hung up.

 

* * *

 

The next time James went into the BBC office he encountered Clarkson in a meeting with Wilman. Clarkson had come a little too late and after he got a flogging by his school friend the meeting went on. They discussed the details for their travel plans for the United States.

Afterwards James was walking next to him, but Jeremy didn't show any indication that he was acting differently towards him. James liked that, he didn't want to be treated as though he might break any moment. He had had break-ups before.

James entered his office and was surprised to find a six-pack on his desk. “What the ...” he muttered and walked around the table, realising quickly that it was his favourite bitter. He looked at the post-it and read “ _Beer makes everything better – J.”_

A smile formed on his lips, he looked through the glass front and found Jeremy walking with a cup of coffee to his own little office. Jeremy drank a sip and then looked over to him. James looked questioning at him, and lifted the post-it.

In response Jeremy just winked at him and walked away.

 


	6. Disaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deals with Hammond's accident, and hereby you have been warned.

James' blood had run cold when the call had come in.

“All right, Hammond's had a big one,” Wilman had told him on the other side of the line. He had explained in little detail what had happened, where he was and that he need to call the rest of the crew. His family had already been informed.

At that moment James hadn't cared about the voice-overs for the show. He had excused himself and simply ran for his car. He didn't know how many accidents he had almost caused. However, when he reached the motorway he knew that it had been too many. He should be careful. The last thing they could use was someone else in hospital.

 _Hospital,_ he wondered and blinked rapidly. He wasn't allowed to lose it, he was driving. He needed to reach Leeds quickly. So he floored the pedal, not caring about speed cameras, section control and undertaking. His friend was of the utmost importance.

 _His friend,_ Richard, who had taken the challenge for only one reason: because James couldn't. Because he had to do the voice-overs. The producers thought it would be funny putting James into a land speed record holding vehicle. Of course, it would have been. Time had been running short. His other show was due to air soon, he had called Richard.

“Of course, I was jealous anyway,” James remembered the cheery voice. Shaking his head and taking a deep breath, he quickly banished the thoughts. This was bad, very bad. Richard was in a coma. In a coma he shouldn't have been in. He had family, he had two too little daughters. They weren't allowed to lose their father. Just because James hadn't had the time. He should have done his job.

Noticing that his vision blurred, he shook his head. _No,_ this hadn't been his fault. It was the man who had built it. Who had done all the mistakes, for the crew that had let him out on the airfield when there had been crosswind. Hammond who had chosen to go out there …

He couldn't do this! He couldn't blame Hammond. He couldn't blame the idiot who built the thing. He couldn't blame the person who had suggest this to the producers. He couldn't … he couldn't! How could he? It would have gone wrong anyway. And Hammond had been in there, taking his place.

James dried his face as he pulled up in front of the hospital. “Fuck.” The whole place was swarming with reporters. _When the fuck did they gain this kind of popularity?_ The lights that went off almost blinded him. Then he spotted a familiar face between all of them.

 _Wilman,_ he was making subtle hand gestures. James quickly understood them and drove around the building. There he was met with Jeremy's AMG and Wilman who was out of breath now. Clearly he had been running through the whole building to reach him in time.

James jumped out of the car. “Is he …” he broke off, _what? Still alive? Breathing? Still in the coma? Awake?_ He just didn't know, so he said nothing.

“Those paparazzi are the worst,” Wilman cut him off and set off before anyone would know where they had gone. “Hammond's still in a coma. Mindy is already with him, and Jeremy arrived a few minutes ago.”

 

* * *

 

James could only be described as _upset_ when he walked into the hospital room. He was, and he wasn't sure with whom he was upset. With everything and everyone.

At some point, Clarkson had left the room, leaving James alone with Mindy and Hammond.

Hammond with all the cables and drips connecting his body. Keeping him alive. Mindy held her husband's hand, stroking it gently. James wished that he could say something, anything. He felt like he should be able to come up with comforting words. He was sure that Jeremy would have been able. That he would have cracked some joke.

But James … James couldn't. Instead he excused himself and left the room. Taking a deep breath, he shook his head and walked towards the men's loo.

He opened the door, stopping at once. He saw Jeremy leaning against the wall, his eyes closed and a wet trail of tears running down. Something made him look at him, a distinct shift the room. James took a step inside, letting the door fall shut behind him. Without saying another word he walked towards Jeremy. The other man just shook his head as if to apologise that this had happened. James stood next to him, also leaning against the wall.

They spoke no words. Jeremy just wiped the tears away taking a deep breath. Once he let his arms fall, James acted on instinct. Jeremy believed everything can be cured with a touch, so wasn't it logical that a touch would help him?

Tightly James grabbed for Jeremy's lower arm and gave it a tight squeeze. Jeremy's breath hitched, he leaned his head back and a new tear escaped him …

 


	7. Knight

The whole drive back Chipping Norton Jeremy had made sure that the car behind him would be James' stupid Prosche. They had decided that James wouldn't go back to London. Even though one hour and a half would mean nothing given the already long journey.

This wasn't mentioned or discussed. Jeremy knew that James didn't want to be alone. In all fairness neither did Jeremy. So he had offered James to stay at his place. He could tell that James was at the end of his wits, and couldn't continue much longer.

Jeremy had to be home because Francie was going away on business. After all Richard was Jeremy's friend, so she didn't really see a reason to reschedule. Which was fair enough, given that Mindy took care of her husband.

Jeremy parked in front of his house and got out. He didn't wait for James, knowing he was right behind. Instead he walked into their house and met Francie.

“Hey,” he greeted her and threw the keys into the bowl.

“How is Hammond?” she asked, standing at the other end for the room.

Jeremy let out a sigh and felt his shoulders sag. “I … We don't really know. It's mostly his … head.”

There was a stretch of silence, no one said a word.

“How are the children?” Jeremy finally asked.

Francie nodded. “In bed, Emily is finishing up homework.”

Jeremy just nodded in reply. “Are you off to the airport?” he asked, already knowing that this was the case. Otherwise her Aston wouldn't be sitting so cheerily close to the gates and the bags would be in the hall.

“Yeah, was just waiting for you to come home,” she explained, shrugging her shoulders. Then they heard someone drive up the gravel.

_Right,_ Jeremy remembered. “That's May, London's too far. I thought it'd be better if he stayed here for the night,” he explained quickly.

She raised her eyebrows but didn't comment any further. “Right.” She watched as James made his way out of his car and towards the half open door. Francie's shoulders sagged, he looked like hell … She looked at Jeremy for a moment and then bit her lips. “I'll better be off. Will miss my flight otherwise.”

Jeremy nodded, in two steps she was past him. Only stopping for a short moment to kiss him briefly. Then she left, saying a quiet hello to James.

James smiled weakly seeing her and then entered the house. Jeremy cleared his throat and explained why she had been in such a hurry.

James didn't show much of a response. This worried Jeremy, he shouldn't be in his small world, beating himself up. He should talk, talk about what happened, talk about why he was so damned upset. Of course, they both knew the answers to all of the questions.

“You know your way around,” Jeremy explained and set off. “Emily is still awake, the other two are allegedly asleep.”

James followed quietly, his hands hidden in his trouser pockets replying with a little grunt here and there. “I know you don't have any clothes but I can offer you some of mine. Fresh ones of course.”

“Right,” James just replied. This was even more worrying for Jeremy. He had expected some joke that he wouldn't wear his disgusting clothes, or that you just couldn't wash out the stink that made Clarkson. Instead he got … nothing. Jeremy stopped in his track, turning around and looking at James. This was far too familiar, and he wished it wouldn't be.

With a sigh, he just went on and lead James to the guest room. “Right, you know, bathroom is to your right, bed is there in the middle. I'll get your clothes, well my clothes.” He tried again to get any reaction.

Nothing.

“And erm, will see after my offspring and then ...” He left the rest hanging in the air. He couldn't really say that he'd also be looking after James. Right now that was what he should be doing.

James wasn't off very well. He hadn't screamed, shouted, he hadn't cried, he was a ghost of himself. It bothered Jeremy, he worried for his friend. He worried for both of his best friends. Currently he could only try and help one of them. Richard was out of his hand … he sighed and left the room. He wished that this would never have happened. He wished that the idiot had never built the machine, or at the very least that he had built it properly.

Quietly he looked into Finlo's room and Katya's. Katya was fast asleep, while Finlo only acted like it. He could see the faint glow of the Gameboy from under the blanket. He let him, Jeremy wasn't anywhere near strong enough to argue about it. Emily had just slipped in her pyjamas and sat on the bed when Jeremy knocked.

“You going to bed?”

She nodded in reply and rubbed her eyes. “Everything all right with Uncle Richard?”

Jeremy shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. He didn't know, but that was his daughter. He couldn't tell her that. “He's tough. I wouldn't worry too much,” he lied. He worried a lot.

“Okay. Good night, dad.”

“Night, Em.” And just as he was about to close the door he remembered. “James is staying over, in case you hear some loud farting. That's him, no reason to worry.”

He saw a smile form on her young face and she nodded. “Okay.”

Then Jeremy came back to James' room. Since he didn't want to catch him half naked he knocked first and waited for a reply. Then he stepped into the room, seeing James stand next to the made bed. He put a glass of water onto the night stand and sat down at the edge.

Jeremy shifted his weight slightly. The sweats were a bit too long for him but it was barely noticeable. Meanwhile, the shirt fitted well.

“Comfortable?” Jeremy asked carefully. He'd be okay if James were to break now, and pour his heart out.

It didn't happen though, he replied by shrugging his shoulders.

“Right,” Jeremy mumbled, not really sure what else to do. He could hardly force it out of him. “Erm … if you need anything, anything at all, I'm two doors down,” he explained. Quietly he contemplated if he should pat James on the shoulder. Remembering his aversion to touch he chose not to. Maybe that would make things only worse.

“Okay,” James replied while watching his toes. Only when Jeremy had almost closed the door behind him did he hear a quiet “Thank you.”

Jeremy's shoulders sagged. “Always, May,” he just stated. Because he would always do it. He was his friend, one very dear to him. Among the list of people he'd do everything for. This was nothing. But that was better left unspoken. He closed the door and then went off into the empty bedroom that he called his own.

 

* * *

 

It was hard for Jeremy to fall asleep on normal nights. It was even harder now; it was almost impossible. Once or twice he had drifted off for maybe half an hour. His mind had other ideas, it didn't want to shut up! It was thinking about Richard, James, about the BBC and worst of all the media. He didn't even want to know what they were writing about. Even though he could bet his hair that it would be bad.

Worse even: Things were bad. Jeremy shook his head and rolled onto his back. He stared at the ceiling. Only a few months ago he had fully recovered from the slipped discs, leaving a bad back behind and now the next thing had happened.

What was next? All of them falling off a cliff? What would they do if Hammond wouldn't recover? They couldn't just get a new boy and act like nothing had happened … Jeremy sighed, _stop it! Get some sleep!_ He shouted at his own stupid brain. What a useless waste!

Suddenly he heard a crash. Jeremy shot up, wondering where it came from. Had one of his children crashed against something? With a grunt he rolled out of bed and went to check the hall. All the lights under the children's doors were off. There was only one source of light, and it came from the guest room. _James!_ his mind quickly registered. This couldn't be happening again.

He knocked on the door. “James?” he asked. This time he didn't wait for a reply. He knew that he wouldn't receive any. Instead he just walked into the room, ignoring that his eyes hurt from the sudden change of lights. “James.”

The man was sitting at the edge of the bed, his eyes red and tears running down his face. “James, please. Look at me,” Jeremy asked carefully, stepping closer. He held up his hands, making sure that he wouldn't see a threat in him. “Please,” he pleaded again. It didn't do any good, James was still pulling on his hair, shaking his head, calling himself names. Though Jeremy wasn't sure about that, he wasn't very easy to understand.

“James, it's me. Your friend, Jeremy.” He wondered how far the man was gone. _Not again!_ The first time it had happened Jeremy had been so helpless that he had made sure he'd know what to do should it ever happen again. Until now he had never needed this …

“Please, look at me,” he pleaded almost standing in front of him.

James only pulled tighter at his own hair, his voice got louder. “Stupid, so stupid! It should have been me! So stupid!” His voice was full of anger.

“No, James. No. Stop it,” Jeremy tried and only watched as he pulled on his hair again. This time he had ripped hard enough that some came out. This was the first time he noticed his fists and nails. They didn't look like usual, one looked slightly bruised. This wasn't good. Now it didn't matter …

“James,” he asked again of him. “I love you, mate. And I'm sorry for the next thing,” he explained to him.

Before James recognised the words – even if he did – Jeremy stepped forward and covered James' hands with his. He grabbed them hard and pushed his thumb into the raw and open flesh. James shouted painfully but released his own hair.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It's all right,” Jeremy repeated while he tried to keep James under control. He kicked and struggled, trying to get his hands back and this time aiming for Jeremy. In Jeremy's mind, he liked that more than the alternative.

“Please, listen to me,” Jeremy tried again, but James only let out a shout. Jeremy tugged at his arms and pulled him again his chest. “I'm sorry,” he muttered again, feeling tears well up. He had to be strong, he couldn't fail now. There were too many people who were counting on him. And James …

James who was trying to fight him off. Not even realizing that it was Jeremy. Quickly he let go of James' hands and wrapped his arms tightly around his shoulders. He pulled him as tightly as he could to his chest and rubbed along his back. Making soothing circles while he told him in a low voice that everything was all right, that he was his friend, Jeremy. James cried in his shoulder, and the shouts of frustration were muffed by it as well. Jeremy felt tears falling down his face, as he kept on repeating the words just hoping that James would return.

At some point the body in his arms almost went limb, the fighting and fidgeting stopped. Only unsteady breaths could be heard. Jeremy wasn't quite sure if they came from James or himself.

“It's all right,” Jeremy muttered. He let out a long breath. Carefully he loosened the tight grip he had around James. Still he kept an arm around him to steady him. Then he lead him to the bed, pushing him down and tucking him in. Quietly he wiped the tears away from James' face, and dried his own, praying to a god he didn't believe in that this would never happen again.

James' breath hitched quickly. Luckily, Jeremy wasn't unaware that this might happen. Hence he went to the other side of the bed, crawling under the sheet as well. Again he pulled James to him tightly, spooning up. One arm kept James in place steadily - holding him as tight as he was able - while his right hand searched for James' and pressed his thumb in the middle of the palm.

It relieved stress; that was something they could both use. Without any other words they stayed the night like this …

 


	8. Rapids

Jeremy was walking out of the little home office when he met Francie. “You done?” she asked.

Jeremy nodded, and was about to walk to the fridge to get a beer. He had written the script for the next episode – the very first they'd be shooting after Richard's accident - and also finished the column for the next _Top Gear Magazine_ issue. He had had an idea, and of course he had started to write it right after.

“Can I have you for a moment?” Francie asked and sat down on the sofa. “Maybe without the beer.”

Jeremy sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “As long as I can have the beer afterwards.”

“I think you might need it,” his wife muttered quietly and waited until Jeremy had taken his seat. He sat down on the sofa, some distance between them, which over the last years they didn't notice it any longer.

“What do you need?” Jeremy asked, rubbing the space between his eyes. Maybe he had overdone it. _Had he sent it to Wilman? Yeah, he was sure that he had. No reason to worry._

Francie put down her cup and cleared her throat. This snapped Clarkson back to attention. _It was rather serious,_ he realized. _He hadn't done anything wrong, had he?_ Things between them were like they had always been for the last years. Hence Jeremy concluded that there was no problem.

“I don't think that there is an easy way to do this,” Francie began, she shifted slightly.

Jeremy swallowed hard. “I'm not a man who needs subtlety. Go right ahead,” he encouraged her.

“I think you might,” she took a deep breath. “Jeremy, I … you know that ...” she let out a sigh.

“Francie, just out with it,” Jeremy shook his head, he had never seen his wife struggle with words like that. She wasn't like this, she was strong, head on first, Clarkson was almost subtle next to her.

“Jeremy ...” she tailed off, taking another breath and set for a new try. “I … we … We should get a divorce.”

Clarkson swallowed hard and looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

_This couldn't be true,_ and yet … he knew that this couldn't be a joke. It wasn't. Instead of being able to say anything, Jeremy shook his head helplessly. He didn't know … he didn't want to be able.

“Jeremy, I … you know that we haven't been very close lately,” Francie began to explain, she herself was struggling. Her voice started to crack in the middle. “Something has been missing for a long time. And … you know that.”

If Jeremy was fully honest and looked into his heart of hearts he knew that she was telling the truth. He just nodded weakly.

“I care about you, Jeremy,” Francie barely brought it out, looking into his eyes, seeing that they started to well up. “But I don't love you any longer.”

“Why?” he almost choked on the words. The next marriage that hadn't worked …

“I don't know,” she muttered feeling tears fall down her cheek. “I wish I knew, I really wish that there would be a reason, but it just went away.”

Jeremy swallowed hard. That hurt the most, that there was nothing that they could do.

“Be honest with me,” Francie requested and took a deep breath. “Do you still love me? The way you did years ago.”

The fact that Jeremy didn't reply at all was all the answer they needed. Instead he chose to look away, anywhere but Francie. He had thought that it was normal, that after leading such a long relationship that things would change. Their feelings had changed, from the first head over heels love it had settled to something steadier, then the children were born and together they had mostly made it. It just hadn't been good enough any longer. _Love had run out_ , Jeremy realized. It had years ago … and deep inside he had known that. He had been unwilling to accept it. Instead he chose to ignore it.

“But why now?” Jeremy asked after a while. It couldn't be the children, they were still young. They hadn't just stayed together for them. They had stayed together out of routine and convenience. Something must have changed.

“I … Jeremy, please don't get it wrong,” Francie began. Slowly Jeremy began to realize; something had changed on her side. Something that was more convenient than Jeremy. Or better: someone. “I … I have found someone else.”

Jeremy just nodded and wiped the tears away.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, I really didn't. But he was there, and I felt something that I haven't felt with you for a long time,” she explained quickly, trying to justify all of this. “I realized that something between us had been missing, and it was there with him.”

“Stop,” Jeremy simply requested. He didn't want to hear it, he didn't want to hear how she had fallen in love with another man. And mostly likely had even been together with her while Jeremy was not.

“I'm sorry,” Francie muttered, she moved closer to Jeremy and reached out for him. Gently she placed a small hand on his arm. “I truly am. I never meant to do this to you. It's better this way.”

Jeremy just huffed, shook his head and looked away.

“I know how much you hate being alone. But …” Then she broke off.

_What_? That she wished she wouldn't have to leave him. Jeremy waited, wondering if there would be anything else.

“Jeremy,” Francie gave his arm a slight squeeze. “Are you all right?”

As a reply he just shook his head. What could he say?

“I think ...” Jeremy began and tugged his arm back. “I think, I'll go to bed now. If you don't mind.”

“No.” This had hurt, she wished that things would have gone easier … “You can still stay in the bedroom, I don't mind.”

“I would rather use the guest room,” Jeremy replied while he made his way up the stairs.

 

At first he walked into the bedroom that both of them had shared for almost 14 years. He collected his pyjamas and then left. It wasn't hard to leave it, he realized as the first rapid came crashing down. They hadn't really shared it in the sense of a romantic couple any longer. They had just been two people who shared a bed, only lying next to each other.

Jeremy wiped his tears away and sat down in the guest room. _Why did it have to run out?_ He wondered and felt a weight on his shoulders, pressing him down and wondering exactly when had they gone wrong, when had they stopped feeling for each other like they had in the beginning.

It was pulling him under, threatening to drown him as more tears made their way down his cheek. He didn't want to be alone. He really didn't. He was a man scared of very little things, but very high on the short list was being alone, being left behind. With nobody on his side. Jeremy shook his head, feeling all the waves of emotions roll over him. Crashing down on him.

 


	9. Flight

James took a deep breath as he sat down on the chair in the porter cabin. Rubbing his face, he let it out again. It had gone well. Almost. He liked that they would never have to talk about the accident again. James was sure while they wouldn't do such in front of the camera they would behind.

Even though Hammond had fought so hard and brave for his way back; he wasn't there yet. He still forgot little things like the pin for credit cards. Just before the shooting they had found him sitting behind the hangar. Shredding himself with self-doubt. Jeremy seemed to know the right words, sitting down next to him and explaining it all to him. It was hard. It would be hard. And James … he had stayed. He hadn't been very useful in his mind. He hadn't run away. That was something. Even though it was too little.

When did all of this happen? That he didn't run away when things got too much. He used to do it all the time. When something grew over his head he just fucked up a little and ran away. The only reason why he and Sarah had worked for so long, had been because he could have run away any time. Still when Hammond needed him, he hadn't … and when Jeremy had stood against the cold wall in the hospital after Hammond's crash James should have run. He should have packed his things and just run. That's what he always used to do. Still he hadn't … he had reached out for Jeremy and return let him do the same.

“James?” he heard Clarkson's voice and soon saw his head peak through the crack at the door. “Andy told me you were in here.”

“Yeah,” he replied quietly.

“Do you …” He cleared his throat. “Is it okay if I come in?”

James bit his lip. _Clarkson_ … he was always there. Through the last 12 years of his life he had just sort of been there. A constant presence. One that refused to go away. No matter how hard James had tried; he couldn't get rid of him. Over the last years he had found that he didn't even want to. “Yeah.”

Jeremy stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Then he took the seat opposite of him and placed a water bottle in front of James. He smiled weakly and James took it, knowing what Jeremy tried to do.

“How's Hammond?” James asked after a while.

“Holding up,” Jeremy explained. Hammond had never been so nervous before any studio shoot, not even the very first they had. “Mindy is driving him home. I think it'll be better next week.”

“Takes a while,” James just muttered. He took a sip of water and let out a sigh. Usually he'd prefer some beer at the moment. But he was aware that he should be cautious with that idea.

“How are you?” Jeremy asked carefully.

James looked up and swallowed hard. He just shrugged his shoulders. He didn't know. James had felt numb through most of the shooting. Trying to bolt all the emotions inside of him. Trying not to let them show during the recording. He had known that if he had let Hammond hug him that it wouldn't be possible to do so. If it hadn't been for the cameras he would have let that hug happen. He had let it happen awhile ago anyway.

“I think you did very well,” Jeremy cut in. This was a difference between these two. James liked to dwell on his own emotions. Jeremy preferred to dig them out of the depth that was James May. In this case James let him, maybe because they both were aware how self destructive this could be. “Better than me, I almost became a whaling girl on screen. Twice.”

James smiled weakly. “Nobody would have held it against you.”

“Eeh, wouldn't be so sure,” Jeremy shrugged his shoulder. “They hold everything against me.”

“I envy you a little for it,” James admitted.

“That they hold everything against me?”

“No, not that,” he shook his head, biting a smile back. “That you're able to deal with … those things the way you do.”

“The word your looking for is 'emotions'. I know using it is against every rule in bloke-land,” Jeremy teased him. Then he leaned forward, his voice softening. “James, everyone copes a little differently. It's okay if you … need a little help.”

“Maybe,” James sighed. There an old instinct kicked back. It meant relying on someone. He had always tried to be alone, to make his way alone, even if it almost killed him. Relying on someone else meant that he couldn't do it. Somehow that had become a bad thing.

“Do you want a lift home?” Jeremy asked. “I'm heading for London anyway.”

“No,” James replied instinctively. “That'd leave my car here.”

“We'll pay some intern with mountains of curry so he drives it to Hammersmith.”

James smiled and nodded. “Okay.” Somehow, he didn't mind relying on Jeremy. Even though it scared him it wasn't enough for him to run away.

 

* * *

 

As Jeremy drove onto the motorway James began to talk again. “I can't help but think ...” James began and noticed that Jeremy was looking at him from the corner of his eyes. “... what would have happened if I had been in that car.”

Jeremy let out a sigh. Instead of overtaking the car in front of them he stayed behind. “You're taller. Would have taken your head off,” Jeremy muttered quietly. “Not that you would have cared as your … head would have come off.”

James stayed quiet and nodded. “Then I wonder what would have happened if Hammond ...” He didn't finish the sentence.

Jeremy took a shaky breath, still staying behind the car. “Do you often think like that?”

“No,” James admitted honestly. He hadn't thought like that since Hammond crashed. Since the night he had stayed at Clarkson's home. “You've had a car accident with a truck once?”

“Yeah.” Jeremy had mentioned this only one time.

“How badly injured were you?”

“Well, I almost got wedged. Pretty much everything on my left side was broken,” Jeremy admitted quietly. “Collarbone broken, hip broken, left wrist of course broken. Funnily enough my left ankle was only sprained.”

James smiled weakly, realising Jeremy tried to make light of the situation. “Did you ever wonder what would have happened if the truck hadn't hit the rear seat but the front?”

Jeremy bit his lip. Slowly he nodded. “A few times. Okay, I get what you're trying to say.”

“Thank you,” James mumbled. This time Jeremy overtook the car in front of them. He stayed on the outer lane for a little longer, passing a few more cars. “Though that wasn't what kept me busy in there.”

“Oh?” And Jeremy pulled to the left again, the road ahead looked empty. “What was it then?”

James shrugged his shoulders. He tried to find the right words, wondering if Clarkson would understand. “I run away.”

“What?”

“I do. I always do.”

Clarkson shook his head. “Okay.”

“You can't understand that?”

“No. Not really.” James' shoulders sagged. “Explain it to me.”

James looked over to him. Taking a deep breath … maybe. “Every single time something got too much in the past I ran. I fucked it up a little, maybe on purpose. Or I just packed my things and ran.”

Jeremy nodded, so far he was following.

“I always manipulated relationships as soon as there was commitment. I mean, they were exclusive but if it would have been a fixed thing I always found enough reason to end it. Or to annoy the hell out of the other. Often on purpose. Do you understand that?”

“Yes.”

James smiled weakly and felt himself relax a little. “Sarah and I only worked because things were so easy. I always had the choice to run away. With jobs and friendships it was the same.”

Jeremy nodded. “Don't think that _Autocar_ counts.”

“No,” James shook his head. _Autocar_ had become annoying and so terribly ungrateful for his work that he had had enough. “And then something went wrong … I get beaten up, sit in hospital, the nurse asking if she should call someone and I let her call you. I should have run away. Normally I would have run away.”

Jeremy swallowed hard and slowed down behind another car he didn't want to overtake.

“And I never bother to think why I let her call you. It's not like we were friends. I should have packed my things and run away. Because that was always so easy.” James shook his head. He looked at his hands, not wanting to know what Clarkson was thinking or which emotions he was showing.

“Because you had the least to lose,” Jeremy muttered. “By calling me. Like you said, we weren't friends. So what would it have been to you if I would have thought you're a twat for being bi.”

“Not that you knew what that was,” James huffed.

“Hey, I can be educated as you have seen.” Jeremy smiled weakly. A little banter between all this serious talk would help.

“Just.” James shook his head. “Why did you even come?”

“Because … when you get a phone call from hospital that someone is in there who's been beaten up you just go,” Jeremy explained.

“Then why did you … why did you do all else?” James blurted out. “Why did you shout at him? Why threaten him? Why did you tell me about Alex? All the things after? Why?”

Jeremy shrugged his shoulders. “Honestly? I don't know. Because that arsehole is an arsehole. And if he comes back I still plan on throwing him out of a window.”

James smiled weakly. He knew that he shouldn't be. That threat still worked good enough, and it wasn't like Jeremy had crowned himself a hero for it. In fact they had barely been able to call each other friends afterwards. It had only made it harder. At least for James, because Jeremy knew something about him that he preferred nobody to know. But Jeremy had never mentioned it, never treated him differently. James had learnt that he didn't mind that Jeremy knew this of him.

“Usually I would have run away. I didn't,” James picked up. “I should have run away when your back gave out, because it threatened it all. I didn't. I should have run away when Andy called months ago. I didn't. I should have run when I saw Hammond lying in that bed, I didn't. I should have run away when I found you crying in the loo. Still I didn't. Most of all I should have run after that night at your house. I just didn't. That's what I don't understand.”

They stayed quiet for a long time. Jeremy overtaking a few cars from time to time. It made James wonder if he had spoken all of that out loud. If Jeremy had heard him.

“Fight or Flight.” Jeremy broke the silence.

“What?”

“It's the natural reaction when there's upcoming danger. You flee when it's easier, or you fight. In the past you always chose flight because there was nothing worth fighting for. It was easy,” Jeremy explained, his voice softened. “Now, however, you've found something worth fighting for. That's all right.”

“I … I don't understand that,” James muttered quietly.

“I think you do. You just don't want to,” Jeremy added softly. “But you will.”

 


	10. Joke

In the little production office outside Guildford James was getting some coffee and handed a cup to Hammond.

“No, it'll be funny!” Jeremy protested. “Can you give me one too?”

James nodded and set the coffee machine to make another black one. Just the way that Clarkson liked it. Briefly he considered putting sugar in it just to tease him. However, they had an exhausting day during the studio shoot so he decided against it. Any other time? Yes.

“Clarkson, you can't say on television that the car could be improved if you were able to have sex with a beautiful girl on it.” Richard shook his head and sipped on his coffee. God, it was hot when it came out of the machine.

“But why not?” he argued. “It doesn't hurt anyone, and people like having sex.”

James shook his head, he handed the coffee cup over to the man. “Clarkson, one day your wife will leave you because you've made one bad joke too many.”

Richard burst out laughing, and James joined in. Due to the laughter they didn't even notice that Jeremy only smiled weakly.

“Funny, really funny. You're all a bunch of arseholes,” Jeremy stated, a vile undertone in his voice. He put the cup aside.

“It's just a joke, Jeremy,” Richard replied, his face still bright.

“No, really funny. You go and make all your fucking jokes.” James looked at Jeremy and began to frown. Maybe that had been one bad joke too many. “You can go and fuck yourselves. Really, or fuck each other. I'm sure May'll like it.”

At that James stiffened, he knew that Jeremy made jokes about his so called homosexuality. He really didn't mind it. However, right now Clarkson was pissed and Richard didn't know about his sexual orientation.

“But no. May, you're not really the one talking about being left, are you? Didn't Sarah fuck off recently? Is she already fucking someone else in New York?” James balled his fists, and took a deep breath. “Go home, and have a sad little wank. Then wank with your left hand pretending that it's someone else. Isn't that how you do it?”

“Jeremy,” Hammond began quietly.

“No, fuck both of you,” Jeremy coldly replied and turned on his heel. It didn't take long until they heard the engine of an AMG motor start and he was away.

James let out a breath and tried to relax his shoulders. He didn't remember the last time he had been insulted by Jeremy like that. He remembered the last time he shouted very badly at him. Back in the 90s where James had fucked up and Clarkson had been under a huge amount of stress. After the apology James had gotten from him they had started to spent little time together outside of the work on _Old Top Gear_. This was different. He had gone into personal detail. And even though he could have done so in the past, he hadn't.

“Fuck, what was that about?” Richard asked, he also let out a breath. Then he went to the chair and sat down. “You all right?”

“Yeah, had worse,” James lied and a cold feeling started to spread across his gut.

“Really?”

As a reply James just shook his head. He also sat down, playing with his cup of coffee. They sat in silence for a while, just sipping on the coffee that was going cold. James' mind wandered to Jeremy.

 _Had things gone wrong between Francie and him?,_ James wondered. He shook his head, the idea was stupid. They had been married for 14 years! However … he thought back; since a while Francie wasn't mentioned in his column any longer. Usually a reference to either Mrs. Clarkson or 'my wife' would appear it in. It didn't any more … They hadn't been close. Then again he couldn't be the one to judge it, he didn't know how they had acted at the beginning …

“Do you think he's all right?” Richard's voice cut through his thoughts.

“Yeah,” James simply replied. “He just needs to cool off. Then I'll drive over and apologise.” _and talk to him_. He added in his mind. Something was off. James had noticed that over the last month Jeremy had become more distant towards them. He thought that it was just the usual mixture of stress and insomnia he suffered from.

Richard let out a sigh and nodded. “We should still edit that piece out.”

James laughed weakly. “Yeah.” Soon they were talking again, smoothly ignoring the topic of Jeremy Clarkson and his outbreak.

An hour later Hammond chose to drive back to Birmingham, James bid his goodbye to Richard and set off. James sat down in his car, key in the ignition. Before he started the motor he fished his phone out of his pocket. No missed calls, no messages. Not from Clarkson or from anyone else. The man most likely didn't plan on saying sorry … James punched in another number of the Clarkson household.

“Hello?” came the female voice when she picked up.

“Francie, it's James,” he began. “I just wanted to ask if Clarkson is staying in Chipping Norton.”

There as a pause before she replied. “Hasn't he told you?”

“Told me what?”

“No, he's staying in London,” Francie replied.

“All right. Thanks. Bye.”

“Bye.” Then she hung up. James put the phone aside and set off in his little Panda. At first he stopped at his own flat to get something that might make all of this easier. Then he set off for Jeremy's flat.

 

* * *

 

Jeremy was taking a long sip from his whiskey. After the burning died in the back of his throat he wished that he had chosen his Rosé instead. A knock on the door turned his attention away from the television. He got up, glass still in hand and opened the door.

James was standing on the other side of the door, holding up a six pack of beer so it covered his face. Then he lowered it and an offering smile playing on his lips. Jeremy let out an airy laugh and shook his head.

“Come in,” he muttered and stepped aside. James did as he was told, wiped his feet and handed the six pack over to Jeremy. The man walked into the living room and sat it on the couch table. “Don't get the wrong idea. It's just for the beer.”

James raised his brows and nodded. “Thought so,” he replied and sat down next to him. He kept his distance. Then he reached for one of the bottle of beer, cracked it open and took a sip. “What are you having?”

Jeremy downed the rest of the alcohol in one long sip. James could only frown, that would burn horribly. “Whiskey,” he replied, his voice hoarse.

“Bet you wish you hadn't done that.”

“A little,” Jeremy replied with a smile and reached for a beer.

He opened the bottle and took a sip. It was still cold so the beer soothed the burning a little.

“You know why I'm here?” James began carefully. Jeremy nodded.

“It's all right. You just made a joke. I was saying the shit.”

James watched as Clarkson's face fell, he didn't like that. Normally he was full of energy, wit and joy. Now … it all seemed gone. He swallowed hard and nodded.

“And I'm sorry for that. I shouldn't have … I shouldn't have said most of the things. I know that they're a no go.” Jeremy was honest and let out a long breath. He was still avoiding eye-contact and the television seemed to be of more interest, even though he wasn't paying attention. “I'm sorry.”

James nodded. “I know. Stop worrying.”

“Thank you,” Clarkson replied quietly.

They let the silence stretch, and it took James some courage until he managed the next question. “Can I ask what's going on?”

“No,” came quickly back. So James didn't ask again, he sat back sipping his beer and watched _Grand Design_ with his friend.

In two hours they had managed the whole six pack, some vodka and more whiskey. By the end, both were tired, pleasantly drunk and James was too drunk to even think about driving a car. As Jeremy reached under his arm, they staggered towards the guest room. “You can stay here,” Jeremy slurred and dumped him in front of the door. “Clothes?”

James shook his head. “I'll be fine.” After two tries he managed to open the door. Before walking inside he turned and saw Jeremy holding onto the wall to make it back into his bedroom. With a smile James staggered into the guest room, leaving the door open because he just couldn't care and fell into bed. He was just lucid enough to make it out of his jeans and curled up in the cold sheets. _Good enough …_

 


	11. Sleep

At first James hadn't been sure what had woken him. He thought that it was his normal drunken sleep, it was often broken up. Something told him that it hadn't been that. That there had been something important that had kicked him out of sleep. He blinked lazily, the unfamiliar walls becoming visible. Not his house? _Jeremy's,_ he remembered. He had stayed in his flat, far too drunk to drive home.

 _What had it been?_ He wondered and as he turned to lie on his shoulder, he heard it again. There was a small barely audible whimper. It hadn't been himself, James realized quickly. There was only one other man in the flat: Jeremy. He was sleeping just one door down. His own was open … which might explain why he heard him. Then followed the rustling of sheets and a sharp and wet intake of breath.

James rolled out of bed, standing on his feet. A bit too quickly, as the world around him started to spin. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he set off, carefully padded down the way to Jeremy's room. The noise became clearer. Jeremy was muttering in his sleep. Although James wasn't able to understand it, he heard something that came close to a sob.

When he reached Jeremy's open door he could see that the man was tossing and turning. James looked inside, feeling a sudden bang of sadness as he saw a wet trail run down Jeremy's cheeks, only made visible because of the soft moonlight. 

“Clarkson?” James asked quietly, he wasn't sure what to do. Should he ignore this, and act like he hadn't seen that? Another strangled noise escaped the man's throat and James felt his gut twist in response. He couldn't just leave him. Instead he padded to the bed and sat down at the end of it. Carefully he reached for Jeremy's ankle. “Clarkson?” he tried again, giving it a slight squeeze.

Jeremy was still tossing and turning, he muttered something under his breath that James couldn't understand. Maybe that was for the better, as new tears formed in the corner of his closed eyes. James crawled up the bed and without thinking about it, he wiped them away. “Clarkson, it's me, James,” he muttered. Then he felt Jeremy's hand around his arm, holding onto him.

“It's all right,” James explained, seeing Jeremy shake his head helplessly.

“Please don't leave,” he heard Jeremy mutter. James heart sank lower, his voice was so broken.

James shook his head. He didn't plan to. “I won't,” he muttered. Gently he used his free hand to reach for Jeremy's shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze.

Jeremy's eyes snapped open, so quickly that it almost frightened James. However, he stayed.

“Clarkson?” he muttered quietly, and saw how he tried to blink himself back to reality. He started to shake his head and let go of James' hand. More tears were falling down his face.

James took a deep breath, his heart hurting to see Jeremy break in front of him. “No, it's okay. Jeremy, it's all right.” Gently he settled his arms on Jeremy's shoulders again, wrapping them around him. He didn't fight back, instead he hugged James tightly. James let him, he needed it. He felt the tears fall down and dry on his shirt. Jeremy's breathing was uneven as he tried to regain control.

“It's okay,” James stated quietly. If it was what he needed he shouldn't fight it. His arms were settled around Jeremy's shoulders, holding him.

“I was alone,” Jeremy muttered against him. “Everyone was gone. I was alone.”

“It's all right.”

“There was nobody. Nobody in the studio, on the track, in my flat or at the house. All of London was empty. I hate being alone, James.” A strangled sob made it out of the taller man. James nodded, he had guessed a while ago that Clarkson was terrified of being left behind. Of having to be alone. “It scares me. So very much. I don't want to be alone.”

“You're not,” James replied, giving his body a slight squeeze.

“Francie left me.”

The words hung between them. Suddenly a silence settled. A silence that was rare in the world. The one where everyone's brain was empty and the breathing seeming to stop. James didn't know what to say, what to do. He just held Jeremy a bit tighter.

 


	12. Bread

The rest of the night James had stayed with Jeremy. He didn't want to be alone. It was the only thing that had left his mouth after the confession that Francie had left. Hence James had lain down at the other side of the bed, his hand resting carefully on Jeremy's shoulder. The small contact was more than enough for Jeremy. He fell asleep and didn't wake up again.

James was glad for that, and he had stayed up half of what was left of the night. However, he couldn't keep it up and also fell asleep. He was slightly surprised when he woke up alone in Jeremy's bed.

The plan had been to wake up before him; maybe just sneak back to his own bed. When he thought about it he didn't see the point. Jeremy had also stayed with him when he had had a panic attack over half a year ago. Not that they talked about it. But he was sure that what Jeremy had told him last night couldn't be avoided in the way that mates tended to avoid certain topics. Sighing he got out of bed and strolled into the living room. He saw the empty beer bottles and let out sigh. He grabbed the packet of Camel he had left there.

“Morning.” James turned around and found Jeremy already sitting at the table. Some bread was in a basket and a second cup was waiting. One for James, he realized. It didn't happen often that they made breakfast for each other. “Do you mind if I?” he asked and lifted his cigarette pack. He knew that Jeremy had thought about quitting.

Jeremy shook his head, given the circumstances he most likely had better things on his mind than nicotine. That was also proven when James found an already smoked cigarette in the ashtray. James lit his own and sat down at the empty chair.

“Thanks for that.” James pointed at the breakfast and took a drag. Jeremy shrugged his shoulders and also lit one of his Marlboro's.

“Don't mention it,” was the reply as he turned the page on the newspaper.

James waited, wondering if Jeremy would pick up what happened last night. After a while James simply grabbed another piece of newspaper and also read. As he was through with the fourth page, there was no indication that Jeremy planned on talking about anything. He was smoking his third cigarette, eating pieces of bread and reading the newspaper. _It couldn't be that interesting_ , James thought, but this was Jeremy. Jeremy Trained Journalist Clarkson.

James simply chose to start the conversation. He cleared his throat. “Jeremy ...” He lifted his head. “... about last night ...”

“Listen, May,” Clarkson cut him off. “I wanted to apologised for that. I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry.”

 _What?_ James frowned for a moment. He let out a laugh, not really able to believe what he was hearing. He was thick, but Clarkson wasn't _that_ thick. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No. I'm sorry.” He was earnest.

James huffed out some air and leaned back. “All right, what for?” Before Jeremy could reply he went on. “If what had happened to you last night had happened to me, would you want me to be sorry for it?”

Jeremy shook his head. “No.”

“Then don't be,” James replied sternly. He saw Jeremy swallow hard, trying to comprehend what had just been said.

“All right,” he muttered quietly, he turned his attention back to the newspaper.

James took a sip coffee. “I still wanted to talk to you about … what you said last night.”

The other man stiffened up, he put the newspaper aside and looked sharply at James. Neither of them would like this, James realized but didn't say it out loud. That wouldn't have made things easier.

“What do you want to know?” Jeremy asked quite sarcastically.

Helplessly James shrugged his shoulders. “Since … since when? I mean you and Francie.”

Jeremy took a drag before replying. “A month.”

“You stayed in London all the time?”

“I did.” At that reply Jeremy's eyes left James'. There was a sadness in them that he hadn't seen before.

It wasn't very easy to get anything out of him, so James asked the simplest question that came into his mind. “What will happen now?”

Jeremy shrugged his shoulders and put the remains of his fag into the ashtray. “We'll get a quiet divorce. We won't make it messy. So it doesn't leave much of a public record behind. So the yellow-press ...” Jeremy was reaching for his cigarette pack again. Instead of getting a new fag he just placed it on top of James' pack, keeping his hands from becoming fidgety. “Can you imagine the fucking headlines? Failed a second fucking marriage, bet they would blame me for it.”

James took a deep breath. “Was it?”

“No.”

“Then why?”

“Because she's fucking someone else,” Jeremy replied, his voice vile. “She's fucking someone else. She's in the fucking house.” Jeremy's hands went to fumble for a cigarette again. “But hey, at least she didn't ram a fucking fork into my thigh.”

James winced at that. Jeremy had told him years ago. When Clarkson had found out his first wife was cheating on him, he had gone to talk to her about it. She had become angry, blaming him and had in the heat of the moment rammed a fork into his thigh. He still carried a scar from that, James knew.

“But don't get me wrong,” Jeremy picked up after a while. “I'm not mad at her. Just that all of this shit happened. We haven't loved each other for years.” Helplessly he shrugged his shoulders and left the fag inside the pack. “I really want to be mad at her. I really wish I could be, that she's a fucking cheater. But I can't. I can't blame her for falling for someone else when we didn't love each other any longer. I'm just fucking angry at the situation!”

“Jeremy,” James began quietly. Though he was cut off.

“No. I really am. 14 years! That is a fucking long time. I thought we'd grow old together. But then what? It just stopped. Just like that. Love ran out.” Jeremy shook his head, a faint glittering was visible in his eyes. “And now what? I'm fucking alone, not even able to see my children.”

James looked sadly at him. He knew how much the children meant to him. He wished that there something … anything he could do.

“I hate being alone, James. I really do! I hate it!” he spat out.

“Jeremy ...” James tried again.

“I hate it so much.”

“Jeremy.” This time James reached out for him. Gently he rested his arm on his, at first he wasn't sure what effect that would have. Jeremy looked at his hand. He let out a breath and his shoulders relaxed slightly. “You're not alone.”

Jeremy looked back at him. His eyes sad, however, there something playing in the corner of his lips.

“We're friends remember. A unit, was it?”

Jeremy just nodded.

 


	13. Truck

As if the journey itself wasn't bad enough … The cold, the wind, by the second night in the boulder field James had begun to hate everything. Even Clarkson, though he hadn't done anything wrong. He knew that since Clarkson had smashed James against the dashboard while driving, Clarkson had been more gentle and careful. It didn't matter. James still hated everything, he wanted to be back home. In a bed, in a warm and soft bed. Instead he sat on the bloody cold ground, trying to work out how that fucked up tent could be put up.

“Just fuck this!” James snapped, throwing down the piece. Then he simply stalked away.

“No, James!” Jeremy called after him, the cameras were still rolling. “Cut it, cut it!” he shouted to them. Even Jeremy knew that this went beyond the little trifle they'd usually have. James didn't snap. Most of all, he didn't snap in front of the cameras.

“Hold that.” Clarkson put the camera man to use. They couldn't risk the tent being blown away. Quickly he followed James who had hidden inside the Hilux, Jeremy tried to open the driver's door but it was locked from the inside. _Of course,_ Jeremy had almost kicked it, hadn't he seen the way that James sat slumped inside.

Jeremy knocked on the door. “Let me in,” he requested. Not that James could hear him through the door, or against the harsh wind.

However, he could hear the knock, and looked up. Jeremy let out a breath, seeing the misery on his friend's face. “Open up,” he requested again.

James nodded, and stretched over the seat. The door popped open and Jeremy got inside. Quickly he smashed it shut. “Fuck, it's cold,” he muttered clenching his fists.

James didn't reply and just looked at the floor again. Jeremy didn't like that, he knew that James didn't want to be out here. However, he thought that things would be bearable, or okay if they'd do it together.

“Are the cameras off?” Jeremy asked, seeing the little dash cam.

“Yeah.” Usually they'd turn it off when opening up their night camp. No need to waste more power.

“Want to talk about it?” Jeremy asked carefully, he had turned so that he was facing James.

“No.” James shook his head, he kept sitting stubbornly in the passenger seat, refusing to look anywhere but his heavy boots.

Clarkson in return just nodded, not sure what to do. This was clearly getting to James, as it was to Jeremy. He wanted to help. Somehow.

“Listen,” Jeremy began. “We'll built the tent, and then get a night's sleep. We can start later tomorrow, might be easier.”

James huffed and shook his head. “Yeah, sure. Get out of this shit place, let's start later.”

“Well, we can't really start much sooner,” Jeremy replied sharply. Maybe a bit too sharp.

“You also can't call it sleep,” James added, his tone almost as harsh. “Lying on the bloody frozen hell. It is!”

“James ...” Jeremy tried, this time keeping his own temper in check.

“No, listen. I never wanted to come. I mean I did, but ...” he broke off. In fact, the _James May hates the whole idea of arctic exploring_ idea was only partly true. It had taken some convincing, however, in the end he had gone by his own free will. On some days he even looked forward to it. “I hate this. I really do. I want to go home.”

Jeremy nodded, understanding. “Yeah, there are better ways to spend the night than with a fat balding bloke.”

James smiled weakly and for the first time he looked up.

“A smile!”

“Stop it,” James insisted and shook his head. At least that comment had stopped James from stating that his home was just as empty as Jeremy's flat

“I know that this is a shit place,” Jeremy began, and this time James actually listened. “But we'll be out of the boulder field soon, then we'll beat Hammond and you can eat your Spam.”

James smiled once more. “I'd like that.”

“And should Hammond win, we can always run him over.”

At that James had to laugh, Jeremy nudged his shoulder and smiled at him. They waited for a moment and then James gave a final nod.

“Ready to built a tent?”

“Yeah.”

“Come on, after that we can get drunk,” Jeremy announced and opened the door of the Hilux. James waited a heartbeat and followed suit.

 


	14. Gamble

“Pub?”

“Sure.”

James looked questioning at Jeremy.

“Jezza, you coming too?” James asked.

Jeremy shook his head. “No, I can't.” He shifted his weight. “I have other things to do.”

“What? Better things than the pub? Since when?” Richard teased him.

“I have responsibilities,” Jeremy stated dryly. “I am a mature parent. That is all.”

Richard huffed and put his jacket on. “Since when?”

James bit his lip, he had tried to keep out of the conversation. Richard didn't know that he was treading on a sore topic. “Come on, mate. If he wants to be a mother let him.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes. He couldn't really admit that he was grateful for the rescue. He hadn't managed to tell Richard about his divorce yet. In fact he hadn't told anyone but May, and only May because it had just … happened. He wasn't ready to tell anyone ekse yet. He didn't talk to May about it either.

Hammond shrugged his shoulders. “Then be a lady if you want to. May, you're not a lady?”

“Usually he is,” Jeremy teased.

James rolled his eyes and tried to bite back the smile. “I'm always up for the pub.”

Hammond walked past the two men and James shrugged his shoulders. He lingered behind.

“Thank you, mate,” Jeremy muttered and rubbed the back of his neck.

“No worries.” James smiled weakly. “Are you seeing your children?”

“Yes.” Suddenly a smile spared across of his face. It had been two months since Jeremy had seen them. This would be the first time that Francie allowed him to see his children, even take them for a few days.“I … I just need to be at home. That's why ...”

“You need to go,” James ended the sentence for him. “Good luck, Jezza.”

“Thank you,” Jeremy muttered. James winked and together they walked outside.

Richard was waiting impatiently. “Which one was the woman?” he joked. Both men rolled their eyes, but Jeremy couldn't help himself and pointed at James.

 

* * *

 

In the pub Hammond was shooting darts. Or rather he was shooting at a burly man's eyes. “Sorry, sorry,” Hammond apologised while May was sitting at the bar laughing and wheezing.

That's when James felt it. Over the loud noise in the pub, he couldn't hear his phone, but it vibrated against his leg. He fished it out and picked up. “Hello, hello.”

However, he didn't hear a reply. None at all. James frowned and put the phone down. Maybe someone had just called the wrong number. Just that James hadn't even said his name.

Curiosity took over and he opened the protocol of his phone.

 _Jeremy Clarkson,_ it read. No, there should be a number above that one, James thought. Only that there wasn't. Then he checked the time on the call. _11:23pm._

A quiet curse escape James. He turned to Richard - who was still trying to explain his situation to the burly man – and excused himself.

While his phone dialled he made his way outside. “Jezza. Why did you call?”

“Oh ...” The other man cleared his throat. “I just … it was an accident.”

“Okay,” James frowned. “Could have said so before hanging up. Wouldn't have had to go out of the pub.”

“Sorry.”

James swallowed. This didn't sound like Clarkson, at least not like his Clarkson. “Everything all right?” he asked carefully.

It seemed to take an eternity until a reply came back. “I guess so.”

“The children good?” James kept asking.

“Yeah.”

“Clarkson?”

“All right, I'm sorry I called. I know you and Hammond were drinking. If I had known that you'd lecture me I wouldn't have called.”

“No accident then?”

“Shut up,” Jeremy cut off. “Get drunk.”

Then James heard a click. That could only mean one thing: he had hung up. James rubbed the back of his neck … something was wrong. Or maybe it wasn't. He wasn't sober, it would be a gamble. Though losing it would only mean that Jeremy would make more fun of him …

 

* * *

 

“James, it was an accident. You don't need to call me all the time.”

“Open your door.”

“Why?”

“Do me the favour.”

“Since when do I do you favours?”

“Since I've brought you medicine when you had gastroenteritis.”

Jeremy laughed and shook his head. He walked to his front door, unlocked it and opened it.

“James,” he muttered and hung up the phone. The man was standing right in front of him.

A weak smile formed on James' face. He had hoped to never see Jeremy like this again: his face ashen, unshaved, his shoulders sagged, and his eyes tired. Surely he had tried to sleep and failed again. For a moment James wondered if he still had those nightmares.

“Clarkson,” he replied softly.

“How did you know ...” Jeremy stepped aside.

“Gut instinct.” James walked into his flat. “Why?”

Jeremy shrugged his shoulders “I don't know.” He rubbed his face, trying to hide the sadness.

It was so clearly visible on his face. “I'm sorry.”

“Thank you, May,” Jeremy muttered honestly.

Together they walked towards the sofa and sat down. Some war film had been paused, Jeremy pressed play. The volume was too low to be understood and James spotted some warm milk on the couch table. He had tried to lull himself to sleep.

“Have you tried wanking?”

Jeremy burst out laughing, he bent over his knees holding his face in his hands. James smiled as he saw Jeremy laughing. Maybe the first time since he had arrived at to the empty flat. Jeremy rubbed his face and nodded, or maybe he shook his head.

“What happened?” James asked when Jeremy had settled back into a comfortable corner of the couch.

He shrugged his shoulders. “I don't know,” he muttered. “I was waiting for her to bring the children, and ten minutes before she was due she called: Saying that she changed her mind and thought it less traumatic if they stayed the following days with her.”

“Can she just do that?” James asked carefully.

“Yes.” Jeremy let out a breath, he seemed to find the pattern of the floor quite interesting. “We're not divorced yet. The shared care isn't fixed yet. Actually it's one of the last things we're talking about. I thought ...”

“What?” James urged him when he never finished the sentence.

“We both agreed to end this. I thought it would be easy. It's not. We don't really split money, as long as I can prove that this is my pile of money and this is hers. The rest will be put aside for the kids. Good. That was relatively easy. The children aren't. I'm willing to pay custody. It's logical that they stay with her during the week because in no world could I take decent care of them otherwise.”

James nodded. They travelled too much, they worked unusual times, it would work with help but then they'd spend more time with that person instead of the father. It would be wiser to just leave them with their mother.

“Weekends it is. Just that it isn't.” Jeremy's voice flattened.

“What do you mean?”

“I've asked to get them each weekend, was denied. Firmly. I saw some reason.” Or maybe he was forced to. “She wanted a weekend with them too. Whatever, so I'm asking for three weekends per month.”

“And?”

“I still don't get to see them,” Jeremy muttered. “She wants them on two weekends. I didn't agree with that. Now I don't see them at all.”

Francie was simply holding them back until Jeremy would follow her demand. He suffered greatly from the empty flat, when he had expected shouting and children running around. It didn't surprise James any longer that he couldn't sleep.

“What are you going to do?” James asked carefully.

“I have a busy job; I'm in no good position,” Jeremy admitted. “If she doesn't give me the children the way I want I'll take the fucking house off her.”

“Can you … do that?”

“Yes. I've bought it, with my money. I've invested in it,” Jeremy explained. “Yes, she put some work in it here and there. But more importantly I can pay her out. She can't. If I demand it she has no other choice.”

James thought that through, it could work … after all it would just be easier to give it up than to fight for a few brick stones. “Does she care about the house?”

“Far more than I do.”

 


	15. Safari

The plan had been very simple: put the cow's head into James’ tent, film them when discovering that it was Hammond's tent, cut the camera, remove the head, drink some beer, and go to bed. Or what substituted the bed.

While they knew that some hippos were in the river, they didn’t think they would cause any problems. The ranger told them that normally they wouldn’t come this close to the riverbed. However, while Richard and Jeremy went about doing mischief, one of the hippos went out of the water. Scared that they were in real danger Clarkson pulled the cameraman inside the tent and closed it. He wondered if that would be any safer, most likely not …

If they could keep their nerves together this might be a good clip after all. So he nudged Richard’s side, who then suddenly discovered that James had the same bag as him. And _oh no, this was his own tent!_

Even though it had been roughly planned Jeremy’s laughter was real. They forgot that a hippo was trampling outside. Still, they were sitting ducks for a while, the camera was cut, and they waited. A few minutes later the hippo retreated into the waters and the men left Richard’s tent.

“Thanks, Jay.” Richard then ordered the other man to join the crew around the fire, while he wanted Jeremy to stay put.

That took Clarkson aback, and as usual he tried to work around that with humour. “If it’s about your love for _Oliver_ , I’m not going to stop annoying you with that.”

“It’s not about Oliver!” Richard replied, but he couldn’t bite back the smile. Even though he knew it was played for laughs, he also knew that Jeremy understood what he felt for Oliver. They were only making fun of the fact that he named the Opel.

Jeremy nodded, and shrugged his shoulders. “Then what have I done?”

“Nothing,” Richard replied quickly, maybe a bit too quick. “It’s …” He took a deep breath, maybe he should wait until they were back home. But Richard wouldn’t go home with them. He had some other work to do down here. “It’s …” _get over yourself man!_ “James told me about your divorce.”

Just as the words left Hammond’s mouth, he was able to see a noticeable change in Jeremy: His shoulders dropped, the sparkling in his eyes left, and he looked away as if ashamed.

 _I shouldn’t have …_ Hammond beat himself up. _Jeremy would have told me when he would be ready._

“Oh …” he heard Jeremy’s voice. “Well … I would have told you sooner or later. I just didn’t know how, or when. And I … I just don’t know. The second bloody marriage that failed. Then you have Richard still married to the first person Hammond. It’s so stupid!”

Hammond bit his lip and sat on the log of a tree. “I just … I just wanted you to know that ---”

“What? That you know that I ruined my marriage? And this time it also includes some children,” Clarkson snapped, ready to walk off. He didn’t …

“What even happened?” Richard asked and pointed at the free space on the log.

Jeremy sighed, he slowed but didn’t sit down. “Which time?”

A shrug of the shoulders was the reply. Clarkson generally didn’t talk about his first marriage, Richard only knew that it had been messy, both had been deadly unhappy and there had been cheating involved. Given the loyalty he had shown to Francie he didn’t think that it had been him.

“We just don’t love each other any longer,” Clarkson began quietly after he stopped pacing. Then he shrugged his shoulders. “The simplest reason of all. We haven't love each other for a while, if I’m honest. It was just convenient. Neither of us wanted to be alone, we could stand each other, so there was no reason to leave. We didn’t talk about it, but if I’m honest, I was aware, I just didn’t …” Jeremy's voice broke and he cleared his throat. “I hate being alone, Rich.”

Now Jeremy sat down next to Hammond, he leaned forward and rested his weight on his knees. Richard nodded, not sure what to say. Not even sure what to do. Hug him? Maybe not. Instead he just patted him on the shoulder. Jeremy let out a sigh.

“Why now?”

Jeremy shrugged his shoulders. “She found someone else,” he explained. “She wanted to talk to me at the beginning of last year but …”

Richard knew why he cut off, his accident. It wasn’t talked about, it brought back bad memories for Hammond and even for his friends. It had put enough strain on Jeremy as it was, so Francie had chosen to wait.

“I’m sorry, mate,” Richard stated, not knowing what else to say. A scoff from Clarkson was the reply.

“Yeah, whatever,” he replied and got up. “I’m going to get drunk now.”

Richard bit his lip and nodded, it sounded like a plan so he followed. Even though he was aware that this was Jeremy’s way of ending the conversation. “Mate, you do know that you can always come to us and be a girl with your emotions.”

Jeremy smirked and nodded. “Yeah.” Then his face softened a little. “Thank you.”

Soon they were busy getting drunk. Nobody had asked where they had been and a story about three men getting trapped inside a tent was amusing the crowd.

Some time into the night Richard noticed that a bit further away from the group Jeremy was talking to James. Clarkson wasn’t angry with him, and James looked compassionate at the other man. There was a pat on the shoulder and Jeremy left while James made his way back to the crowd.

 _Yes, he’d be all right again_ , Richard mused.

 


	16. Vault

With a simple signature it had been done. That was all that had been needed to end 14 years of marriage. A bit of ink. A piece of paper. A signature. And after?

Jeremy left. Got into his car. Drove back into London. Because currently Francie was in Chipping Norton. They couldn't share a house. Not any longer.

At first he didn't notice it. He just didn't. He was trying to see past the blurry images. Blinking the tears away. He didn't want to stop. But he didn't concentrate enough. He really didn't. Not enough to notice that there had been no car on the street. Not on his side of the road. Not on the other.

He was just trying not to crash into a tree. He was trying to see past the tears.

It should have been easy, Jeremy always thought. They hadn't loved each other. Then why did it hurt so much? Why did he still cry …

The journey seemed to have gone by quicker than usual. He drove off the motorway, using the familiar London street network to get to his flat. An empty flat. A very empty flat.

He turned on the lights when he noticed that some fog had been setting. _Weird_ … he wondered. That rarely happened. He lived too far off the Thames to experience London fog.

Only then did he become aware. No car. No people. Empty houses. Like his empty flat. Like his house. Nobody … nothing.

Jeremy swallowed, that didn't matter. He just needed to reach home, then all of this would start to make sense again.

Though it didn't. This wasn't his London. This wasn't real. He stepped onto the brakes. Stopping the car several metres in front of a pile of scrap yard cars blocking his way. The way to his flat. The only place from which he would be able to draw some comfort.

Why? Why didn't it let him go there? Why was he never able to? That wasn't fair!

Jeremy took a deep breath, he didn't bother about the stream of tears. He didn't bother that they became more.

He kicked the door open and got out. Then he slammed the door shut, a horrid echo ran through the empty streets.

Alone. That is what he was. That is what he would be from now on.

Always alone.

Nobody on his side.

“Hello?” he shouted. His voice sounded so broken. This was London. There had to be at least one person here!

However, he only heard the echo of his own voice.

Nobody was there.

That's when the panic rose. He clenched his fist, trying to will his body to calm.

But he started to run. Just run. Down the street. Leaving his car. Didn't matter. Someone had to be there. He couldn't be alone. He couldn't. It wasn't possible. It just wasn't …

Then he heard something. Like someone stepping on broken glass.

Jeremy turned. Looking around. Fog everywhere.

Where? Where did the sound come from? Someone was here. Someone had to be here! He hadn't made that noise. Where was it? Jeremy traced back his steps. And then he saw it … almost hidden by the fog. He could make out a shape. He knew this shape.

“James?” he muttered quietly.

He was in London. He was alive. Where did all the others go?

Then the figure turned. Disappeared in the fog.

“No!” Jeremy shouted after him. “Wait!” And he started to run. Started to follow.

He turned into a house, where he heard more glass break. He was in here. Jeremy ran up the stairs. There he stood. His back turned, looking out of a broken window.

“James?”

He turned. It was James, looking as he always did. Wearing a stupid floral shirt. Hair longer than it should be legal for men and unkempt as always. “Why is it empty?”

“I don't know,” Jeremy just replied. He felt his voice break. “Why are you here?”

“It's always empty,” James told him calmly.

“No.” He shook his head. “No, London is full of life. People; they're everywhere.”

“That's not what I meant.”

Jeremy took a step back. Feeling like someone had kicked him.

“Why are you so scared of being alone?” James asked casually.

“Because … I just don't like it.” He didn't know. He had never known. He just knew he was. Even bad company was better than no company. Anything to keep his mind from running wild. Anything to keep it busy … anything to keep it from feeling the pain of being alone.

“That's the one that will bring you down?” James huffed.

A tear ran down Jeremy's cheek. “What do you mean?” He never knew that James held such a contempt for his fear … he never knew that he thought it to be a joke.

“You've been beaten. You've been blamed for something that wasn't your fault. You've been stabbed. You've lived through car crashes. You've been to Iraq without getting shot. You broke your own thumbs out of a joke. You've broken almost every bone in your body! You've been cheated on. Twice. You've lived through loss. You've lived through your father's death. You broke yourself.”

Jeremy began to sob. He shook his head. He didn't want to hear this. “How do you know all that?”

“Because I am you.”

Jeremy couldn't understand it, he shook his head.

“Wondering why it's me that you're seeing here?”

“No.”

“Do you even want to?”

“No,” Jeremy choked out. It was just too much. It didn't make sense. “Not now.”

“Life isn't easy, Jeremy,” James picked up. He took a step towards him. “And if it would be, you'd know you've done something wrong. Where would the ups be if there would be no downs? Embrace it! Embrace the pain! Make something better out of it. Like you always have.”

“I'm scared.”

“Good. Otherwise something would be wrong with you. Being scared isn't wrong, it makes you brave and stronger.”

“I don't believe that.”

“Why not? Remember how scared you were for Hammond? Remember how scared you were for me? When I broke down; when I started to beat myself? Remember how strong it made you because you had to be? You've had your fair share of wounds. And that's going to be the one to beat you; that's the one thing to break you?”

He had his eyes tightly shut, trying to force the tears to stop. Jeremy couldn't. He just shook his head.

“You are not alone, Jeremy,” James' voice was soft. “You never will be.”

Jeremy looked up, seeing his eyes. The warm smile. Compassion.

“You'll live another day ...”

A knock. Another. Somewhere in the distance. “What?” Jeremy muttered. James disappeared. He was just gone. “No. James?” he shouted. “Come back, please!” Then everything disappeared.

 

* * *

 

“Where?” Jeremy muttered. He began to note the surrounding. The furniture. London. His flat. He let out a sigh. He didn't remember making it home last night. But he must have …

There was the knock again. “All right!” Jeremy shouted hoping that would shut the person up.

He padded across the floor. Found the keys in the little plate. They were next to the car keys. He must have driven, Jeremy concluded. Then he unlocked the door, opening it.

Floppy hair and a flowery shirt greeted him. “May,” Jeremy muttered, a weak smile forming on his lips.

However, May was looking at something Jeremy was holding. He pointed at it. Jeremy looked down, seeing that he was still clinging onto Winnie The Pooh.

 _Of course,_ Jeremy had come home. Exhausted. Feeling empty. Lost. So very lost. Alone. Just the empty flat. He had found the bear sitting on the armchair. A present from Katya and Finlo, years ago. They knew that Jeremy enjoyed the stories more than they did. He had clung onto it while falling asleep. As if his dear life depended on it. Knowing that if he would still hold onto it the next morning he'd live. Live for another day … and another.

“Oh, shut up,” Jeremy hissed. “You're pitching a series about toys to the Beeb.”

James smiled and nodded. “They accepted.”

“That's great.” Jeremy smiled brightly at him.

“Thank you.” James cleared his throat. He pointed at his own cheek and wiped something away, although there was nothing.

Jeremy frowned. “Oh.” He began to realise. As quickly as he could he began to wipe his own cheek. He felt the moisture on his fingers. He must have cried while sleeping. Jeremy didn't remember it. He just knew that he had had a shit night. Of course he would have had. Then he looked up, he saw that May was already gone.

“I've brought you breakfast.” He heard James' voice behind him.

Rolling his eyes Jeremy closed the door, James had sneaked past him.

“I thought we could talk a bit over our Automobile History Investigation clip. I have an idea,” James began as he took the food out of the brown paper bag.

“Sure. Let's hear it.” Jeremy followed him to the sofa. He put Winnie the Pooh back onto the chair.

James stopped in his task. “I know we don't really talk about it, but … are you all right?”

Jeremy shrugged his shoulders. He had told James that he needed to sign the divorce papers yesterday. They had to postpone their meeting. “Think so.”

“Okay.”

Jeremy sat down at the sofa. “I'll live,” he smiled weakly. “Though I'm glad you're here.”

“We're friends,” James muttered quietly. He also sat down, he didn't really know what to do with that statement. Not that he wasn't glad to hear it.

“Yes. But more importantly you have food.”

“Of course.” James let out a breath, and handed him a box.

“Your idea?”

“Yes ...”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting there ... ☺


	17. Boat

Jeremy was walking down the streets, shopping in his hands, he was doing casual window shopping. Maybe he would be able to spot a gift for Finlo. He might be able to spot a football scarf or similar. Too old for stuffed pets, Jeremy concluded. Though Katya still enjoyed them. Then again, Katya was a girl and younger.

His phone rang, and he stared onto a video game that might interest Finlo as he fished the phone out.

“May,” Jeremy answered quickly. “What you think of video games?”

“Buy him something proper,” May shot back. Then Jeremy heard him wince painfully.

“Are you all right?” Jeremy asked. He sounded like Jeremy when his discs had slipped.

“No,” James muttered. “Listen, are you still in London?”

“Yes?”

“I need a favour from you.” Another painful wince. “A big one.”

Jeremy bit back a joke about oral sex and began to walk in the direction of his car. “What's wrong?”

“I need you to drive me to hospital,” James admitted. “I think I've put something out.”

“Can you walk?” Jeremy didn't ask to give James a reason to go to hospital alone, rather to access how bad the situation was.

“Yes, I can,” James muttered. “Can you please come?” he pleaded with him.

“James, I'm already on my way,” he explained calmly. Then he found his car parked among the others. “I've got your key, just lie down in bed or on the sofa. I'll be there in half an hour.”

“Thank you.”

“Call an ambulance if it gets really bad,” Jeremy insisted, though he was aware that James wouldn't do that. He didn't know why … might be his pride.

“Jeremy, just come and get me,” James pleaded again.

“I will.” He started the engine and pulled out of the parking space. At some point Jeremy convinced James that he'd call an ambulance when it'd get too bad. Should James call them Jeremy would be the first they'd inform anyway.

On his way Jeremy was busy breaking a few laws and annoying people who were driving too slow in front of him. But he arrived at James' house quick enough. He left his car on the kerb, not bothering to park it properly. Then he made his way into his house. “James?” he called out, maybe he fell asleep. Somehow Jeremy doubted that.

“Jezza?”

Jeremy followed the voice into the living room. “Yeah.”

Then he found James lying on the sofa. His face twisted in pain and he had shoved a pillow under his back, trying to get some comfort from it. Jeremy smiled weakly and sat down next to him.

“Hospital?”

“Please,” James requested quietly.

Jeremy nodded, he helped James sit up. Which was good enough, even though it was accompanied by a painful grunt. Jeremy rubbed his shoulder, trying to give him a small amount of comfort. “Slowly,” Jeremy suggested. Hearing that word come from Jeremy's mouth alone almost made James burst out laughing.

“What even happened?” Jeremy asked as he reached with his arm under James'. As carefully as they could they fought against gravity to get up.

“You know that race for the next series?” James began between clenched teeth. “In St. Tropez. Powerboat versus Ferrari Daytona.”

“Yes.” Slowly they walked towards the car. The first comer was managed, just. “I wasn't allowed to ride the Powerboat because of my back.”

“Funny,” James muttered. “Now it shits on mine.”

Jeremy nodded, sympathising. After all Jeremy had a boating licence for the area and would be allowed to drive anything on these waters. Not that the owner had allowed him that. Instead they had sent James, in fear that Jeremy's discs might slip again. Jeremy wasn't very careful about his back. However, sometimes he felt a cold shiver running down when he thought about doing something that might finally split it into two. That powerboat had been one of those things …

“It didn't as much move on the water than bounce from one wave to another,” James explained as they moved down the small step of his house. A true challenge. “It even kicked a colour filter out of the camera.”

Jeremy winced. “Andy told me about that.” The next challenge was the walk to the car. Maybe a couple of meters in the real world. However, for James it seemed like miles. So many and painful miles that he didn't even comment on Jeremy's parking. Maybe he should be touched. It was hard to be touched when you felt like someone had wedged a hot sword through your spine.

The car was unlocked and the passenger door opened. “Okay, I fear that can only hurt,” Jeremy explained as he tried to put James as carefully as it seemed possible into the seat. A lot of swearing on James' side was involved.

Jeremy quickly got into the car as well and drove off to hospital. Again he didn't care about speed limits, however, he was careful to not abuse his suspension too much. At least for James' benefit.

After some more grunting and pain, James had been admitted into A&E, where a doctor asked James all kinds of questions. Meanwhile Jeremy amused himself in the waiting room, at first he had tried a sports magazine, then he chose to play with the building blocks. Not that he managed to build anything greater than a house.

While he was busy trying to figure out what was the highest but thinnest construction he could manage, a doctor walked in. “May?”

Jeremy turned around. “Yeah, Jeremy Clarkson,” he corrected and shook the doctor's hand.

“Mr. May only put his back out,” he explained. Jeremy had a little problem with the word 'only'. “He needs to rest for a couple of days. Warm baths, warm blankets, I've suggested massages too.”

For a moment Jeremy wanted to make a joke that he wouldn't be the one to do that, then he realized that this was a doctor. He was cut off anyway by his wonderful brick construction collapsing. Jeremy turned around, shoulders sagged. “Oh damn,” he muttered and turned back to the doctor. “Does he need supervision?”

“Generally, no,” the doctor explained. “But I'd suggest it.”

Jeremy sighed, he could live with that. It wasn't like James had someone else, as he was still single. “As long as I don't have to help him on the bog.”

The doctor laughed and shook his head. “No, he should manage that.”

“Good.”

“Anyway, I've given him painkiller and an injection left and right to his lower spin.” Jeremy winced, that mustn't be nice. “He may feel a bit displaced because of these. He should sleep a while now. The damage should be dealt within a week.”

“Okay.” That was good. Then they'd start to shoot the studio parts for their 11th series. James should be fine until then, Jeremy hoped.

“And no more hard riding powerboats,” the doctor warned him.

“I'll tell him,” Jeremy smiled. “Can I see him?”

“Yeah, you can drive him back home too.”

“Oh … okay. I see.” Jeremy bit his lip, trying not to say anything rude to the face of the man who had just put James back together.

 

* * *

 

Getting James back home had turned out to be easy. He didn't complain about the pain any longer. Jeremy guessed it was due to the painkillers. As long as he had Jeremy to lean against while walking they could manage quite well. Jeremy had – in a way – to carry James up the stairs. Not the easiest task, he had to admit. However, as he found he could grab James around his waist without him flinching away, he had done so and propped him up against his shoulder. This way his feet were above the ground. Since he was on drugs James had simply wrapped one arm around Jeremy's shoulders.

Soon he was dumped into bed and Jeremy made sure that many warm blankets were covering him. As the doctor had told him: warmth helped. Then he realized that four might be too many and removed two of them. He was a little unsure what to do next … after all he hadn't really got James' permission to stay in the house.

He simply chose to feed his cat first, then made his bed in the guest room and walked back into James'. He had turned onto his side, but seemed to be reasonably awake. “Jezza?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah.” Jeremy stepped out of the door way and sat down next to him. “You okay?”

“Drugs help,” he grinned childishly.

“Hmm. That they do. Listen I'm going to stay the night, okay?”

“Whatever.” James closed his eyes and let out a long breath.

Jeremy shrugged his shoulders. “Okay …” As he was about to get up again he felt James' hand on his lower arm. That stopped him.

“Jezza, am sorry,” James mumbled.

Jeremy smiled and shook his head. “For what?”

“Calling you,” James explained. “You should get a weekend off, and I ruined it.”

Jeremy took pity on the poor man. “You didn't. It's all right. We're friends. Your back gave out.”

“That it did.” James shook his head. “I had no one else.”

Jeremy bit his lip. He had been aware of that, in a way. It's not like they talked very often about their romantic lives. Jeremy was still new to all of this, he had no idea when to tell friends about a new partner, not that there were any. He had enough things to deal with … James seemed to come forward when things seemed to last for longer.

“I hate dating,” James kept on mumbling.

“I know.”

“I mean really. What a stupid notion.” Jeremy agreed quietly. James on drugs wasn't so far away from James totally pissed. “I mean there was Sarah, and she left. I hated it, but I knew it was for the better. Then Hammond crashed and that became more important. Then you got divorced, and I was … I just tried to be a good friends. Take care of you.”

Jeremy smiled weakly. Even though he was on drugs, Jeremy was touched by those words. He had been aware that James tried to make sure the time he had to be alone was as short as possible. “I know,” he just muttered back.

“Dating became really unimportant,” James mumbled into his pillow now. “It's not like I'm lonely.”

Jeremy sighed. “I know that too.”

“I like you,” James muttered with a sigh.

“I like you too, James,” Jeremy just added.

“You're a good hugger,” he muttered and Jeremy watched as James fell back into a slumber.

“Thank you.” Jeremy smiled weakly and shook his head. Then he padded out of the bedroom and made himself a home in the guest room.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, James woke up on his stomach. Fusker was sitting exactly where his back hurt and purred loudly. Trying to purr him back to full health. Somehow, James didn't want to move but he really needed a pee. So he carefully dropped Fusker off his back and walked to the bathroom, not thinking that there might be someone else in it he just walked in.

“May, fuck off!” Jeremy shouted as he turned while peeing into the bog.

“Man! Point at the toilet!” May shouted back. Cleaning Clarkson's piss wasn't very high on his list. _What the fuck was he even doing here?_

“Go away!” Jeremy shouted again.

This time James retreated and closed the door behind him. Of course … the hospital. As James' proxy Jeremy had driven him back home. Though he didn't remember that he had stayed the night too. Slowly James began to laugh and he heard Jeremy laughing from the other side of the door too.

 


	18. Card

“What the fuck was that about?” James grabbed Jeremy's arm pulling him to a stop.

Quickly the man shrugged him off “What the ...?” he took a step back, suddenly glad for the privacy they had in the small production office.

“What the fuck was that about?”

“What do you mean, old man?”

“Don't!” James' voice was stern. Jeremy cleared his throat and nodded, he was listening now. “You, comparing Steve with that car. In front of everyone. Fucking hell, we were recording. What were you thinking?”

“You said it was okay to make fun of you … being camp,” Jeremy defended himself.

Maybe he had gone too far. A rubbish car had been shown on their screen and the first thing Jeremy had thought of was that it had a moustache … just like May's boyfriend. May had tried to pass on information about the car, though Jeremy had kept on tormenting him. It went so far that May had simply shown him the reversed V-sign.

“Yeah, if you say that I have a sex dungeon, hide little pride flags somewhere near me, or that I imagine a quite attractive man with me when I'm alone somewhere; god even that I take it up the arse! Or you cupping my scrotum, how did you even come up with that shit?!” Jeremy shrugged his shoulders. “That's fun and jokes. But you arse were insulting! Not getting you were given a hint and just went on!”

“I'm sorry.”

“What?” James was honestly astonished. Did Jeremy Clarkson just apologise? To him?!

“I'm sorry. You are right. I overstepped my bounds. Won't happen again.”

“Right.” James blinked and cleared his throat. He had actually looked forward to shouting at Clarkson. Though now … “Erm ...”

“At least until I can make the joke of buying a present from Ann Summers for you.”

James smiled at him. “That you can do.”

Jeremy nodded. “Coffee?” Jeremy turned towards the machine in question, James nodded.

“But I've got to ask,” Jeremy began as he pressed the – hopefully – correct buttons. “What is it with Steve and his moustache?”

“Oh god. It's awful!” James huffed and leaned against the thin wall. “I hate it! As soon as some structure comes into facial hair it needs to go!”

Jeremy smiled and handed him a cup of fresh coffee. “Agreed.”

“I mean really, it's disgusting. But I can't ask him to shave it.” They hadn't been dating long enough, just a few weeks. Not even a month. Not long enough that James took him along with friends. Jeremy only knew because he had come by uninvited and put one and one together.

“Hmm.” Jeremy leaned against the wall too, his own cup of coffee in his hand now. “How is he anyway?”

“An arse,” James huffed. “Not the good kind. It's not going to work. He doesn't like cars. Fair enough, Sarah didn't either. Difference is nice, I like it. It's what I live for.”

“It keeps the world going,” Jeremy added.

“Exactly. But we have nothing in common. Could only be worse if he voted for the Green Party. Sarah and I at least had some things in common.”

“Ballet.”

“Yes, exactly. And what's Steve's high opinion of ballet? He thinks it's – and I quote - _gay!_ Quite wise words from a man who takes it up the arse.”

Jeremy laughed and shook his head. Tempted to roll his eyes, James joined in. It was nice to laugh about those things.

“See, that's the thing you need to tell me,” Jeremy muttered as the laughter died down.

“Then I'd be single again, and have to go and find dates. I just hate that. It's such a weird notion. Really; if you go to the pub and find some friends that's rather nice and it just sort of happens. But for a date … urg, I hate it!” he complained.

“I know what you mean,” Jeremy agreed quietly. “It was all fun and games when you were young. At least you had some sex along the way. Back then you could even call it good because you had no idea what real good sex is.”

James snorted, but he couldn't not agree to that statement.

“Even One Night Stands used to have some class. It was always clear that you'd just have a nice fuck and it'd be an act of courtesy to check up on the other person while doing so. It was also an act of courtesy to offer her breakfast in the morning, or call a cab, or even bring her home. Because that's the kind thing to do.”

“Have you had a One Night Stand, Clarkson?” James asked, sounding like a teacher who was asking the obvious.

“Yes, I had. Thanks for noticing.”

James laughed and shook his head. “How was that?”

“Awful,” Jeremy huffed, he took a sip of coffee and went on. “What happened to those little things of kindness? Maybe I'm just old fashioned. Then she packs up her clothes, as if embarrassed by what we did. I wake up alone, find a card saying that was _quite nice._ ”

James pulled a face. “Ouch.”

“I am not _quite nice_ , James!” Jeremy protested quickly. “Okay it wasn't brilliant sex, but it was better than _quite nice!_ That hurt.”

A small compassionate smile formed on James' lip. At least he was taking it with humour, James thought.

“All right, that's that. Then I spent the next two weeks paranoid scanning the _Daily Mail_ afraid that I'd find an article about my penis seize, or if I'm shaved.”

This time James had to laugh. He had really tried to keep it to a minimum but he just couldn't help it. Jeremy turned to face him, he shook his head and started laughing too.

“I think I'll stick to wanking.” Jeremy shook his head. “At least then I can fully relax. And it's always more than _quite nice._ ”

James shrugged his shoulders and nodded. “Yeah, me too.”

“You planning to break up then?”

“Was predictable when I started that, honestly,” James just stated. It wouldn't really hurt him, as Steve had only caused headaches.

“Hmm.” Jeremy wasn't sure if he should say that he was sorry. If he was honest to himself, he wasn't. Sometimes a break-up was the better thing. “At least then you don't have to worry about the awkward noises while sleeping.”

“I think they came with age.” James smiled.

“That they did.” Jeremy shook his head. “Though you were always a sinus and an arse.”

James laughed and nudged Jeremy's side. “I only snore when I lie uncomfortably.”

And Jeremy knew this. “Fine, you always were an arse.”

 


	19. Salt

“We were ambitious, and for the first time ever, successful” Jeremy cheered into the camera, and patted the two other men on the back.

Soon the camera was cut and the crew started to pack their things away. They'd only stay one more night and then head to the nearest airport home. They were on the salt flats in America, and all three of them had achieved their target. Jeremy beamed at James, he had looked so happy. Of course he had been, they all had been. However, Jeremy just couldn't forget James' reaction and joy. Jeremy had walked up to his Chevy. “Was it a good run?”

“Felt like it,” James had stated as he had stepped out of the car.

Then a big man in the even bigger hat had announced the number and James jumped up, overly excited.

“YES!” they both had shouted. Jeremy, just being Jeremy, and rarely seeing James so happy, had lifted his hands up in triumph. James had stepped towards him, and that had been the moment when he had realized that he wanted to hug him. Jeremy had seemed to too, neither really stopped. This was all within a few seconds before they both had remembered the cameras around, the crew around, they couldn't just hug each other on camera.

“We've all done it!” Jeremy had announced, still not taking a step back, still wanting to hug him. _Fuck it, they could edit it out._

“Has Hammond done it?” James had asked, and yes, he was the one who stopped. Jeremy understood. Maybe his own attitude was _fuck it,_ nevertheless James had recovered his senses far quicker.

“Hammond's done 150!” he had told James and stopped in his track.

“Fantastic.”

“He's celebrating in the Honey Bucket!”

So they went on with the normal routine: surprise that one time they had done something right, and then James had done the last joke by pointing out that yes, they had also been factual!

A few hours later James sat down next to Jeremy. “Here.” Clarkson handed him a bottle and began to sip.

Jeremy noted that he still looked as happy and as radiant as he had when his speed had been announced, it made him smile.

“Thanks.” James leaned against the van they had to spend the last night in. “That was amazing.”

Jeremy nodded. “Rubbish cars, but really ---”he broke off and shook his head.

“Puts a big smile on your stupid face.”

A quiet chuckled escaped Jeremy and he nodded. For a while they just enjoyed the silence, the sun setting over the salt pan, and in the distance V8 and V12 engines rumbling. It was nice, it was really nice, James mused. He looked at Jeremy and found him relaxed, slightly leaning into James' side. Which reminded him …

“Clarkson?”

“Hmm?”

“About that ...” _How to put this?_ “Aborted hug ---”

Before he could go on, Jeremy stopped him, shaking his head and began to talk “It's fine, May. I know you're not a man prone to hugs, or any physical contact. Especially in front of cameras.”

“Clarkson, I know but --”

“And I'm fine with that, you know that.”

“Yes, I'm aware.”

“It was just …” He let out a dramatic sigh. “In the heat of the moment.”

James let out an airy laugh. “Will you listen you old cock?”

Still with a smile on his face he turned his head to James. “What?”

James bit his lip and rolled his eyes. “I … I would have liked a hug.”

“Oh?”

“Just not in front of the cameras.”

“Ah.” Jeremy nodded and took a sip of his beer. “Do you want one now?”

James shook his head, and shied a little bit away. _Not that comfortable yet._

“No.” James took another sip of his beer. “I mean, it would just feel forced.”

But still, somehow … James sighed. Jeremy had looked so happy, his hands up in the air. And now? He still looked happy, and relaxed. Maybe … “Okay, fine.”

Jeremy nodded, put the beer down and stood up. James was a bit confused for a moment before he realized that you can't not hug someone awkwardly while sitting. So James followed suit, he cleared his throat and looked at Jeremy. “I have to confess it's been a while.”

Jeremy shook his head and laughed. “Idiot,” he mumbled and soon James felt his arms around him. It wasn't awkward, it really wasn't. It was nice, James noted, it felt like Jeremy was able to keep him warm and safe. A few pats on James' back later, Jeremy detached and smiled at him.

“See? Hugging is nice,” Jeremy stated cheekily.

James just nodded, a bit embarrassed suddenly. With a soft smile Clarkson noticed why James didn't want to hug in front of cameras. He just grabbed their beers again and handed James' over.

“Is nice,” James muttered.

“Oi! May!” Richard's voice could be heard across the salt pane. “Need you!”

James rolled his eyes and handed his beer back to Jeremy. “Keep it cool for me.”

Clarkson nodded and sipped some. He had feared that he might have frightened James. However, the smile on James' face said it all. He had done the opposite of wrong. The second time of the day they had been successful.

At that realization Jeremy felt a bang inside his chest. Not a painful one, a nice one. One that spread across his chest as a warm wave. One he hadn't felt in years. And James had caused it. “Fuck,” he muttered to himself.

 


	20. Electrical

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For reasons that will become clear I had to change the rating. This chapter is explicit.

It only got worse over the next months. It was like Jeremy wasn't able to stop it. It was wrong! He shouldn't feel like this!

Jeremy sat on the sofa chewing a pen, he had tried to find the right words for his car column and nothing seemed to fit the car. He let his mind wander, lately every time he did this it ended up in the same place: James May.

This wasn't right. He couldn't fall for his best mate. He really couldn't do that!

It didn't bother Jeremy much that James was a man, though that was part of the issue. Could he call it an issue? Yes, he could.

And why not? Jeremy had always been aware that he also tended to drift towards the other camp. From gooey eyes he had made in college at that not unattractive boy - who had turned out to be an utter arse - to that camera man from the last series he had found quite nice. Still …

He couldn't just act on it. It was too dangerous. There was a reputation to lose, and working in a business that wasn't exactly known to be gay-friendly – car industry - it might damage his career; if not ruin it. It had always been too dangerous, his father would have beaten him to a pulp and he came from Yorkshire, growing up in the 70s and 80s ...

While married it had been easy; not only had he been fully devoted to his wife but it also gave him security. He could look at other men, make slightly gay jokes and nobody would have bat an eyelid. After all he had been a married man with three children.

But now he was a divorced man with three children. In the past he didn't have to worry about this. He didn't mind when he found a man attractive … but because it was safer he had always chosen to go with women. He would make a mental note – yes, that's a very handsome man - and then turn to his girlfriend or wife. Remembering that this was also a very pretty person he loved dearly. He had never found himself in a situation where he was single and felt … _that_ for a man.

Found them attractive? Yes. But felt any emotions behind it? No.

Had he always felt like that for James? Jeremy wondered as he put the chewed up pen aside. He needed to throw it away. Maybe … could he be sure? When in a relationship he could note other people's attractiveness. But if he felt something? He was very good in swiftly ignoring that. It was like he was wearing shutters!

Though he couldn't deny that the first time he had met James he thought that he looked quite cute. A young charm, a soft face. Nothing had been worse than the idiotic hair-cut he had when making his first television appearance.

At least on new _Top Gear_ he had chosen decent hair which suited him well. Jeremy smiled softly, remembering how nervous he had been at the first studio recording, though they had played so well off each other. Attractive in a unkempt way. He still was. James aged well, Jeremy noted.

Just that he let his hair grow idiotically long, Jeremy huffed. Though he could run his hands through it; he was sure it were soft and would glide smoothly. Then he could pull it back, hold onto it. God, and James' mouth … it was just too tempting when there was a fire burning in James' eyes. There was nothing more that he wanted than feel those lips around his c---

“Oh god no! Stop!” Jeremy exclaimed. He couldn't think about his friend in that way. He really couldn't! “No, no, no!” Not his friend. Most of all not fucking James Daniel Stupid Stripey Jumper Wearing Idiot May.

Jeremy let out a grunt and went to bed. Very determined to never think of this again and just go to sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

His determination had lasted for a week. Which was especially long given that in the last five days his body had simply betrayed him and made it impossible to sleep on his stomach. Many minutes were wasted under cold showers, thinking about 911s, Gordon Brown and all kinds of other unspeakably unattractive things to get rid of this phenomenon.

It wasn't like Jeremy had hot sex dreams featuring James, often they were quite innocent. Sweet almost, his gentle hands running along his naked back. Stroking his cheek and just exploring … Why did he have to think with his cock? Jeremy grunted as he let his hand wander under the sheets.

It was getting idiotic. He wasn't sure what was more idiotic - the fact that he kept denying everything or that his body was betraying him.

Jeremy let out a long breath and closed his eyes. _Better to just get it over with_ , he thought. What was the point of living in denial? That had never done him any good in the long term. Carefully Jeremy began to stroke himself through his boxers, feeling the fabric glide along his cock.

For a moment he imagined … he wondered if James would like this. If he'd enjoy watching Jeremy wank. He bit his lip, picturing James' eyes wide and that spark of passion inside them. When James was passionate about anything, his full attention was directed towards that object. To have that full attention directed towards himself sent a small thrill through Jeremy.

A moan escaped him, as if embarrassed he covered his face with his hand. Then he slipped his boxers down. He touched his cock, letting his hand slide along his length once or twice. James' hands would be delicate. They were, he knew. Would they treat him gently? Or rather roughly? God, Jeremy didn't even care. He rubbed the tip of his cock, feeling pre-come.

Humming happily, he bit his lip and began to move his hand along the length, giving himself a gentle squeeze from time to time. He would let his hand run over James' back, the soft skin, nuzzling his nose in the warmth of his neck. God, it would be so warm and comfortable. And James would make gentle noises. And Jeremy could make him scream. He wondered for a moment if James would know how to … but of course he would.

Jeremy opened his mouth, breathing heavier. He'd be good at it too, his wet hot mouth around him. While Jeremy would stroke his shoulder, tugging at the hair. Watching him move his mouth along his cock. God, and what would it be like when James would come? Would he throw his head back? Arch his back?

“Oh god,” he muttered, would he moan his name? Or would he be a quiet man in bed? Jeremy would hold him, kiss him, while his legs would wrap around his and he'd just …

Grinding his teeth Jeremy pushed into his own hand, a quiet moan escaped him as he let his head roll onto the pillow.

Jeremy took a deep breath. _This wasn't so bad after all,_ he thought as he uncrossed his eyes and wiped the sticky substance into his boxers.

He let out a sigh when reality came back to him. He couldn't act on this feeling, whatever it was. Just because James was bisexual didn't mean that he'd also like Jeremy that way. Jeremy knew that this wasn't very likely; so rest assured that sooner or later those feelings would just … go away on their own.

 


	21. Fake

Jeremy and James liked the snake vodka very much. They loved it. They loved it so much that they didn't even mind that Richard didn't like it. Not that Richard was against vodka, rather that he was against snake. That, however, hadn't slowed the other two down. They kept drinking and drinking, then mixed it with beer. It shouldn't have been a surprise that they took a bottle with them to the hotel.

It should have been a surprise that they had managed to take the stairs without waking the whole hotel.

Though that had been hard enough; James was tailing behind Jeremy. He was inspecting the stairs as if they might be this evil entity and maybe in his drunken mind it had been. Jeremy slurred something and then put his hand on the railing. Slowly taking one step after another, placing a foot in front of the other. He was doing well, given that it had been a while since he had been this drunk and that he was carrying more snake vodka in his other hand.

May, on the other hand, didn't fare so well. He managed the first step and then collapsed. With his hand he had managed to break the fall laughing quietly.

“Shh. Man,” Clarkson complained. This only prompted James to laugh more. “Can't even walk stairs.”

James tried to get up on his own, which only ended in another downfall. This time even Jeremy wasn't able to keep quiet. He was laughing as James looked up at him, laughing too at his own inability.

“For god's sake,” James muttered under his breath. Jeremy carefully put the snake vodka aside and crawled down to James. He reached under his arm and pulled him up.

“There we go,” he muttered, letting James lean against him.

“Thanks, Jezza.”

“Mmmh, drunken men have to stick together.”

“Yeah.” James leaned further against Jeremy, he would blame the alcohol. “What about the vodka?”

“We'll better leave it here,” Jeremy muttered as they passed the bottle. The first room they reached was used; it happened to be James'.

 

* * *

 

The other thing that they would have blamed alcohol on was the topic they had ended up talking about. At first it was Vietnam, then that Hammond would starve to death, at some point they contemplated getting the missing the snake vodka. As both men were lying on the bed, leaning against each other neither was ready take on the daring journey to retrieve it.

Then silence settled, Jeremy had taken a deep breath and mumbled something incoherently.

“What?” James asked.

“I like you,” Jeremy repeated, louder this time.

James snorted, it took him a moment the realise that he wasn't joking. Of course he wasn't, they had been friends for too long to not know that they liked each other. However, it wasn't the done thing to mention this. “I know, Jez,” James muttered.

“I really do,” Jeremy went on, his voice quiet, and his drunken eyes found his own socks interesting. “I don't know what I would have done without you over the last few years.”

James smiled weakly. He had known that the divorce hadn't been easy for him, no matter if it had been a mutual decision. Jeremy had been lonely for some time and James had made sure that those times were infrequent and as short as possible.

“It's fine,” James muttered. He didn't know what else to say. Gently he patted Jeremy's back.

Jeremy nodded and leaned back, lying next to James. Too drunk to keep his head upright, it fell onto James' shoulder. James wasn't ready to shrug him off. He didn't mind, maybe it was the alcohol. He really didn't mind. Softly he smiled down at Jeremy, his eyes closed and breathing softly.

“I was scared of being alone.”

“I told you, you weren't.”

“I didn't believe you,” Jeremy admitted.

James had known that as well.

“In a cheap movie we'd be kissing right now,” Jeremy slurred as he shifted his weight a little.

James laughed quietly and shook his head. “We're not in a movie.”

“I know,” Jeremy muttered. “But I'm a good kisser.”

“Mate, I know how you kiss,” James replied, he didn't mean to but he shifted closer.

“Oh yeah. That.” Now he seemed to remembered as well. “Hmm, I have finesse.”

“You have anything but finesse.”

“I do!”

“The finesse of a hammer.”

“See!” Jeremy exclaimed. “Finesse!” Then his drunken mind seemed to catch up with the insult. “Hang on ...”

However, James was already laughing his arse off. A warm feeling spread from James' belly across his whole body. But he was drunk, and didn't know what it meant. It couldn't be …

“You know what would be more fun than kissing?” Jeremy slurred after a while.

“Hmm?”

“Putting Hammo's helmet under a lorry.”

At that James lit up in excitement. “How would we explain that in the morning?”

“It would be easier to explain as if we were to kiss,” Jeremy offered.

James just agreed and somehow they had made it out of bed, down the dreaded stairs, stole Richard's helmet and found a lorry …

 

* * *

 

The warm air and the sun had ticked Jeremy off. He heard May's snoring coming from somewhere in the room. A burp escaped Jeremy. _Too much vodka_ , he concluded by the taste of it and tried to swallow. However, his mouth was still dry. _Really too much vodka._

“May, is that your snoring?” Jeremy asked, his voice in full boom. Eyes still closed, he only noticed that his head was resting on something soft.

The snoring stopped, he heard another grunt – not his own – then the reply came. “Hope so. Shut up, I'm trying to sleep.”

It took Jeremy a while to discover that James' voice came from the wrong direction. _Where the fuck was he lying?_ Reluctantly he turned onto his back.

“Ah. Fuck,” Jeremy shouted as little needles pinned along his spin. “Fucking hell.”

“Jezza?” James' voice came again.

“Oh fuck.” Jeremy rubbed along his back, only to discover that he wasn't lying on anything comfortable at all. It took some effort but he managed to open his eyes. “Man, why am I lying on the floor?” And as it turned out the comfortable thing had just been a pillow.

“What?” James sat up. Jeremy turned his head - to where he believe the bed to be - and saw James looking down at him. Then a smirk formed on James' face and he started to laugh. “I have no fucking idea.”

He honestly had no idea. Usually when they were completely drunk and wasted – which they clearly had been - they'd just share a bed. Everyone had their side, and they'd just sleep.

“Stop laughing,” Jeremy protested, as his pain-twisted face turned into a smile as well. “Help me up.”

Reluctantly James moved out of bed. He tightly grabbed Jeremy's lower arms and tugged at them, pulling Jeremy up. Alone he wouldn't have managed but luckily Jeremy was trying.

“Thanks,” Jeremy muttered as he blinked a few times. “Do we have an excuse for Hammo's helmet?”

“Worried blind about his safety?” James suggested as he rubbed his face.

Jeremy smiled and nodded. “I like that.” Then he pointed at the bathroom door. “Can I use your shower? Cold shower to wake me up, maybe throw up in it.”

James stepped aside. “Go right ahead.”

 

* * *

 

James had never figured out why Jeremy had been sleeping on the floor. Jeremy had tried to solve this mystery but drew a blank as well. There the snake vodka had worked brilliantly. If that was the smallest gap they had in their memory it was fine.

What they couldn't remember was that they had made their way back towards James' room: Drunk and laughing after watching Richard's helmet being squashed. They had fallen back into bed. Somehow they had ended up too close together; James looking down at Jeremy, seeing this sparkle in his eyes. Then he was aware what that warm feeling from earlier had been.

Gently he had cupped Jeremy's cheek, there was no protest from him. He watched, fascinated what James was doing. Other than Jeremy, James actually had finesse and he was drunk ... He moved closer, licked his own lip just wanting to k...

“Stop,” Jeremy had muttered softly. His hands were resting on James' chest. But he hadn't pushed him away.

Hence James had simply asked the first thing that came to his mind. “Why?”

“Because when we … because I'd like to remember.” Jeremy's breath had been hot against his. James had closed his eyes and nodded slightly. _Of course,_ they both were too drunk. They most likely wouldn't remember. But James hadn't been able to resist. He had gently kissed Jeremy's cheek instead, and Jeremy had let him.

“We can't share a bed then,” James had muttered as he pulled away. “I can't … not. I can't promise that I won't try to do that again if we do.”

“Yeah,” Jeremy had replied quietly. “Me neither.”

However, Jeremy had been aware that he wouldn't make it to his own room, and neither did he want to. “I'll stay on the floor.” He had been too drunk to realize that he had a bad back.

James had nodded, handed him a pillow and a blanket. “Okay.”

 


	22. Chest

At first they still made jokes. That of course Jeremy was behind, like he had been during the whole journey. That he couldn't ride a motorcycle. Technically in possession of a licence that allowed him to ride a light motorbike, his ability (or rather lack thereof) was mostly exaggerated for the viewers. Nevertheless he was rubbish on two wheels. He had almost no feeling for the clutch, and if they were honest he'd be much safer on a quad. However, the jokes stopped when they looked at Wilman. The man held the phone in his hand, his face looking grim and he turned to James and Richard.

“Right, Jeremy had an accident,” he announced.

For a moment James' heart dropped, fearing for the worst. _Broken arm, unable to breath, run over by a truck …_

“He fell off, a few scrapes and bruises. Suspected broken ribs. But he's coherent. He can still ride,” Andy concluded. “We should be able to catch up with him. He's waiting. Then we'll shoot the last bit and get him to hospital.”

Of course the joking had stopped afterwards. James had found himself sitting on the plastic chair they had just bought. His head was resting on his hand. _He was just worried,_ James had told himself. Maybe he should call the children, but James knew that Andy had most likely done that, or hadn't done that. Clarkson often kept small injuries to himself, he didn't want them to be worried …

James sighed, wishing that he could have done something. He should have stayed with Jeremy.

The last scene on dry land was filmed quickly, and while James and Richard 'cued the music' Jeremy had been driven to hospital. They met again in the hotel bar, where Jeremy announced that he had cracked two ribs, but was fine. James bit his lip, he just nodded and after an uncomfortable silence asked if he wanted a beer.

“No, I think I'll just go to bed. I'll call the children first.” Jeremy smiled at him, he patted his shoulder and then left. “Thanks though.”

“For what?” James muttered to himself, he was useless in such situations.

 

* * *

 

 

The conversation with his children had been the easy part. Jeremy simply reassured them that yes, daddy was still in one piece, and even Francie wished him a speedy recovery. Jeremy had thanked her, and soon found himself in bed. Sleeping … or rather trying to sleep. At some point he heard another person retire to his room. That was his least problem. He knew that he had to share during the last leg of the journey.

Every time Jeremy turned he ended up on another broken part of his body. Soon his head begun to hurt from the heat and his eyes stung. He couldn't lie on his side because of his ribs. The other side was a bit more comfortable … just. He never managed to stay there for long, his shoulder began to ache soon. Jeremy hissed in pain when he turned again.

Maybe lying on his back would work? In a short time he found out that he couldn't breath properly and his chest began to hurt. Under pain he rolled on the shoulder again.

Distantly he noticed footsteps walking through the room. Jeremy winced and tried to take deep breaths while having his eyes closed. In his mind he counted to three.

_One …_

_Two …_

_Three._

Then he felt a hand. It was gently squeezing his shoulder and pulling him a little closer. “Jeremy.” _James_ , Clarkson realized. “Here, drink. That'll help.”

His voice was soft, almost whispering. Which was good given the horrible headache Jeremy had. James wrapped an arm around Jeremy's shoulders, helping him to sit and held the glass while he drank gingerly. Soon the whole content was gone and Jeremy sagged back against the bed.

“Light painkillers,” James explained and ran a soothing hand across his brows. “Should help you sleep.”

Jeremy just nodded absently. James pulled him closer, letting him rest against his chest. That took most of the weight off his better shoulder. The other man had kept his arm around Jeremy's shoulder, and his hand was drawing small comforting circles. Soon Clarkson drifted off, the pain only dull and an hour later he had fallen into a deep sleep. His head placed on James' chest, arms protectively around him and for the first time of the day feeling comfortable.

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning, Clarkson woke up alone in bed. He also woke up alone in the room. However, he found James' bag on the other side. Relieved he let out a breath. At least it was James he was sharing the room with. He had rather worried that it hadn't been. He had feared that someone else had heard him wince and groan at night and had called James to help. After all his mother had been a nurse, so the idea wasn't so far off.

While Jeremy – under some pain – made his way bare feet and bare-chested to the bathroom he tried not to think about sleeping on James' chest. Comfortable, he had to admit. And given that May had an aversion to touch, especially man-contact, it had also been a very kind gesture. Jeremy smiled at the thought and it took the pains of getting himself dressed to wipe it off his face.

  
  


 


	23. Bone

The night would be spent at Ha Long Bar, that much had been clear when the journey had been planned. What hadn't been planned was that Jeremy would have so much trouble moving after a day. A day prior Jeremy had fallen off his Vespa, scratched his elbow and unfortunately also cracked two ribs. He had had a hard time sleeping the night prior and only with James' help had managed a few hours.

However, during the following day of filming he had done well, it didn't show on camera, and if he was honest he hadn't felt bad. Yes, he had needed help with the kick-starter but generally things had gone as planned. He thought he'd be back on his feet in no time.

This little dream had been shattered quickly: Jeremy and James were drinking their beers. They were seated a short distance away from the rest of the crew. Those were currently entertained by Hammond's story of how they drove into a cave with no reverse. Jeremy meanwhile had two beers and exhausted he had meant to make his way to bed.

At first he only swayed a little. James thought that it was the beer, but he also knew that two beers was next to nothing for Jeremy. Jeremy reached for the chair, steadying himself and grinding his teeth he managed a simple “Fuck.”

James was on his feet and next to Jeremy within a few moments. Carefully he hooked his arm under his. “Here, lean on me,” he offered and soon felt Jeremy's weight against him.

“Thank you,” Jeremy huffed and together they walked towards the bedroom. “I though I was doing better.”

James smiled weakly and helped him sit down on his bed. “Hard day,” James simply explained. He stood in the room, looking at Jeremy. “Right … I better l-”

“No.” Jeremy cut him off. For a moment James froze not sure what he wanted from him. “Listen, I may need your help. Again.”

“Right?”

Jeremy bit his lip. “I … I can't really get out of my shirt.”

Obviously Clarkson was embarrassed by this, but James just shook his head and found a really stupid smile on his face. “As long as you can get out of your trousers on your own.”

Though he let out a relieved breath, Jeremy rolled his eyes. “I think you'll have to hold yourself back.”

“Trust me, undressing you is not very high on my list,” James teased and then crawled behind Jeremy. This way he could simply slip his arms under Jeremy's shirt and lift it over his head with ease. James winced inwardly when he saw Jeremy's back. It looked even worse than he had imaged.

Where his ribs were broken a white patch ran around his chest, however, it only made the purple and black stick out more. His shoulders were also covered in bruises. They weren't as bad as his back.

“I know. Not very pretty,” Jeremy muttered, dropping his head. James saw a stiffness in his back and let out a sigh. If only he could do something for him. Normally he'd recommend a warm bath. But he had learnt today that the water wasn't warm enough for that.

“No, but it never was.”

Jeremy let out a laugh and winced right after. “Thank you, May.”

“It'll heal, don't worry,” James mumbled as he went into the bathroom. He filled a glass with water and dropped an aspirin in it. When he came back, Jeremy had already covered his legs with a blanket and he leaned on his good arm.

“Here.” James handed him the glass.

“May?” Jeremy asked quietly and began to take a few sips.

“Hmm?”

“I never thanked you for last night.”

James smiled weakly and nodded. “Don't mention it.”

There was another silence, Jeremy was quietly sipping the water. James felt a bit out of place, it felt like there was another question coming. Or maybe he should just leave him alone … go back to the others.

“Maybe I should just lea---”

“No.” Jeremy placed the glass on the bedside table. “Can I ask you something?”

“Depends.”

“Why are you so nice to me?”

James shrugged his shoulders. “Because we're friends.”

“No, that's not how I meant it,” Jeremy corrected. Maybe the wrong question to get the answer he wanted. “I have known you, May, for over ten years now. There's something in your head, you were … somewhere else after I fell off. What was it?”

This time James let out a sigh, he pointed at the edge of the bed. “Can I?”

“Yeah.” Jeremy shuffled a little to the side to let him sit down.

It took a while until one of them began to speak again. “Let me show you ...” James muttered and carefully began to undo the upper button of his shirt.

“James, mate, I'm flattered but I'm not really in the condition to ...”

“Funny,” James stated dryly and shook his head. He couldn't hide the smile. After the third button he stopped and pulled the shirt back, exposing his shoulders. “See it?”

At first Jeremy wasn't sure what he was looking at, then he found it: all over James' skin was smooth and looked soft. However, on his left shoulder there was a long pale scar.

“May I?” Jeremy muttered, almost transfixed by it. James just nodded. He felt Jeremy's usually rough hand gently touch it. Carefully Jeremy dragged his fingertips over the scar. “How?”

James sighed and pulled the shirt back up when Jeremy's hand retreated. “Similar to you,” he began and faced Clarkson again. “I was on a biking trip with some friends. They left me behind because I was too slow. My bike began to sway, I tried to keep it under control, fell off, but I didn't hit the ground. Instead a crash barrier.”

Jeremy's eyes showed compassion, James just smiled sadly. He waited a beat until he asked the next question. “Why does it look so …?”

“Jagged?” James finished for him. “Because my bone went through it. The shoulder blade split into two and just ...” James just snapped his finger which gave him the idea. “Could have taken my whole arm off.”

For a moment Jeremy wanted to reach out and comfort James. He wasn't sure how often he had told a person that story. Then he remembered that this was James and it would be more comfortable if Jeremy kept his hands to himself.

“I felt guilty,” James simply stated. “I shouldn't have driven off, especially I should have known better.”

“You couldn't have,” Jeremy simply stated. “I was with the camera men, they did as much as you could have done. And it's just a few ribs. They'll stick back together.”

James nodded and smiled weakly. “Still ...”

“Nothing.” Gently Jeremy nudge his shoulder. “I won't even have a cool scar to impress girls. I'm still just fat. And now I'm also blue.”

“You're a plum,” James teased him.

Jeremy nodded and then both men broke out in laughter.

 


	24. Kiss

James stood outside the studio smoking. He had needed a cigarette by now. Parts of the studio clips had already been shot but right now the cars were moved and the presenters had a quarter of an hour to themselves. James couldn't help himself … he couldn't fully answer why he thought about Jeremy ... Why he thought about kissing Jeremy. He just remembered the smile on Jeremy's face when he congratulated him on doing his first super car test. He remembered the honest pride in his voice which was soon covered up by mocking his inability of getting the Zonda around a corner.

Then it had just been there, a small bang inside his chest. One he wasn't unfamiliar with. One that he had felt almost eight year prior as well … one he had ignored swiftly and forgotten in the past. In 2000 he had told himself that this was a stupid idea. That it could never work. That it had just been Jeremy's way of showing him that he was fixed.

Furthermore, Jeremy had been a married men; happily married. Until this day James had never been sure if Jeremy had told Francie about their kiss, maybe he had. Maybe he hadn't … Did it really matter?

So James had watched contently as the small amount of desire disappeared by itself. Just that it hadn't. It had come back … Right now, James was running out of logic to force it away again. After all Jeremy had been divorced for over one and half years. He had admitted that love had run out sooner, that Jeremy had not been scared of losing his wife, rather of being alone.

Nevertheless, James never saw him with another person. Yes, he had noticed that sometimes people were interested but it was just Jeremy. He didn't want to … at least that was what it looked like. Then again, it had been a marriage of 14 years. That couldn't have been easy, and James had noticed that Jeremy was rather busy working, taking care of his children when he got them, rather than trying to pursue some woman. Or man … even James had frowned at that when the idea had popped into his head the very first time.

However, just a few months ago Jeremy had pretty much confirmed the thought himself. Last week he had too; the way he awkwardly stumbled over words when talking to Will Young – also off-screen, of course way out of his league. Then there had been a camera man that Jeremy seemed to like a lot. Not that he had ever tried to approach him, he seemed to be very shy about that.

“Shit.” James jumped as he heard the familiar voice next to him. “Have you got one for me? I've run out.”

“Speak of the devil,” James muttered and handed him his pack of Camel.

“What? Were you thinking about me?” Jeremy teased as he lightened up the fag.

James rolled his eyes, but of course Jeremy was right. He put the packet back into his pocket and took another drag. They smoked in silence for a while, watching crewmembers work.

“I liked your car test,” Jeremy began after awhile.

James just smiled and nodded, his mind still wandering. He wanted to kiss him, just kiss him. But it could so easily ruin everything.

How often had he thought that he'd ruin their friendship and it had turned for the better? The time he let it slip that he was bi, when he had nobody else to call on after getting beating up, when Jeremy took the risk to bring James onto the show ... James let out a breath.

“May?” he heard Clarkson’s voice. “You're drifting.”

“Yeah,” James just replied.

“Care to let me know?”

James bit his lip. “Not sure.” By then he had finished whatever had been left of the cigarette.

Jeremy watched as James stumped out the remains of his fag and began asking question. “About the show?”

“No, it's fine. Don't worry.” James shifted his weight slightly.

“Car?”

“No.”

“Personal?”

James waited a beat to answer. “Yes.” It was pretty personal to think about kissing your co-worker. Your best friend. It wasn't even a question of whether he wanted to kiss him or not. He wanted to so badly, just how … and how hard would Jeremy hit him afterwards.

“Okay … partner?”

James sighed. “No.” He was still single, after he and Sarah had split his romantic life had been similar to Clarkson’s. He just couldn't be bothered, not really. _Or maybe it was because of something else,_ he began to wonder. He didn't want to put a name to that bang in his chest just yet.

“Friends?”

“Yes.”

Jeremy nodded. “Richard?”

James sighed, there weren't that many friends. At least not enough that made James ponder on things.

“Andy?”

“No.”

Jeremy hesitated. “Me?”

James bit his lip and turned to face him. _Why not be honest?_ “Yes.”

Jeremy's shoulders sagged, his face showing a confused expression.

“No, no, you haven't done anything wrong ...” James calmed him quickly. He watched as Jeremy stepped onto his cigarette. Now he had his full attention.

James looked around briefly, the crew was already filing in. Their quarter of an hour was almost up. A few minutes maybe. That was the moment he thought of the kiss again. He remembered Jeremy's words, that he just needed to do it. There was no other way around it.

“You have every right to punch me afterwards,” James stated simply.

The look of confusion would have been priceless hadn't he been so nervous.

“For wh---” The rest of the words were cut off. James had moved swiftly, taking two steps closer and reaching behind Jeremy to pull him down a little, then he just kissed him. He wasn't sure what he had expected, but a responding Clarkson hadn't been on the list. That was what he got. At first a soft sound of surprise, then a gentle response, and what might have been a happy hum. James felt cold fingers wandering to the nape of his neck. A shiver ran down his spine.

James took a step back as they broke apart, his hands were still resting on Jeremy's arms. He could see Jeremy, for the first time in his life stunned into silence, and very far away from throwing a punch. His face was betraying him, he was processing. Very quickly, but not quickly enough.

“So .. you?” he began, and cleared his throat.

“Yes,” James simply stated. _What else was he supposed to say?_

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“But …”

“I know.”

“Bugger.”

James only nodded, and looked at a spot on the other man's shoes.

“I know there are some things to discuss and --”

James was cut off by Andy's voice shouting that they were to come back inside. James cleared his throat, and went on. “And I didn't chose the most perfect moment. But you can punch me after the show.”

As he moved past Jeremy he felt a hand on his arm, James turned facing Jeremy. He found something wonderful in his eyes, but it was also _so_ frightening.

“I don't want to punch you,” was all that left Jeremy's mouth.

James smiled and nodded, then they walked back into the studio.

 

* * *

 

After the recording James still found Jeremy’s Mercedes in the car park. He had thought that he had left by now. James frowned, yes, the rest of the day had gone well and according to script. There was nothing that had tipped off the fact that James had kissed his co-worker. His friend. _Why did he do that?_ He should have thought more about it. James sighed and went on to search for Jeremy instead of his Panda.

He was easily found; still sitting in the studio. Not in his usual chair but on the couch, leaning back and one feet propped on the table. “Clarkson,” James called out and carefully stepped towards him.

“I don’t bite.” Jeremy looked up. James smiled weakly and nodded. Then he sat down next to Jeremy and waited.

James swallowed hard, knowing why he was still here, why he pondering here about the thing. The bloody kiss. He had ruined it. Maybe they could just get back to being mates again, it didn’t mean a thing. At least that’s what James could have easily said. It had meant a thing, but if that was what he needed to say he would.

“How did you know?” Jeremy’s voice cut through his thoughts. James looked at him, a bit lost. “That … how to put it … I don’t mind men.”

James let out a relieved breath, he thought it’d be something else. He began to laugh a little and shrugged his shoulders. It had been a leap of faith of sorts.

“And if you come with Will Young I will punch you.”

James sat back, relaxing for the first time since the kiss. “Well, partly. But then there was that camera man.”

“Ah.”

“And what you said a few months ago, a bit drunk.”

“I say lot of things drunk, what did I say?”

James wasn’t sure if he really didn’t remember. It was true, Jeremy said a lot of things and half of the time didn’t remember them. However, when one reminded him, he usually agreed with his drunken self.

“You said that it’d be stupid to let the gender stop you from loving someone,” he explained, feeling awkward for a moment. Maybe it had just been a drunken slur. He shouldn’t have put too much weight onto it.

“Yeah, that’s true.”

James swallowed again, and nodded. _Good,_ he thought for a moment. Maybe there was hope for them. Maybe. But just because Jeremy also liked men, didn’t mean that he liked James.

James cleared his throat, “Erm … were you ever together with …”

“No,” Jeremy replied quickly. Maybe a bit too quickly.

“Can I ask why?”

He saw Clarkson tense up a bit, he stretched his leg and took a deep breath. There was a reason, and right now he seemed to put it together in a sensible way. “The other option was the safer bet. Well …” _As save as you can be with two divorces_ , James could fill that up by himself.

“Why did you kiss me?” Jeremy finally asked and looked at James.

“I don’t know,” James admitted, he knew that at that moment he would have to be fully honest. “I just … I just wanted to.”

Jeremy smirked and James saw something wonderful. Jeremy was being shy, he looked at James and then at his hands.

“Do you want to …” Jeremy cleared his throat. “... be with me? As – I guess – as a couple?”

James had never really thought about it, and he didn’t right now. Still he answered with no hesitation. “Yes.”

At that James saw something more wonderful, Jeremy beamed over his whole face. Only for a moment until reality came back.

“I know, I know,” James began before Jeremy had a chance. “I know, there are some things to discuss. You have children. We work together. Then there is the crew. The show.”

“The media.”

“Yeah …” James paused. That was most likely the worst off all the problems. They’d make a mess of it.

“We need to work that out,” Jeremy stated clearly. “We really do.”

James just nodded. It didn’t sound too encouraging.

“That bell can’t be un-rung, James.”

At that moment, James realised what they were talking about: It wasn’t the idea of being a couple. It concerned all the circumstances that surrounded them. Often, yes, love ran out. However, sometimes it was also circumstance. He didn’t want that to happen again. Not with Jeremy.

“I know,” James replied after a while.

Jeremy took a deep breath and got up, he held his hand out for James. “Come on, before we get locked in for a week,” he muttered, and James took it.

“How do we --- what do we?” he stumbled over his words. He wanted this, he wanted to be with Jeremy.

Jeremy stopped and turned towards him. “Listen, this is a big thing,” he began. “We need to think carefully. This needs to be talked over, and then there has to be a decision. One that is final.”

James just nodded. Jeremy was right. “If it doesn’t work out because we’re just not enough then that's that. But that’s the only reason I’ll accept. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” James thought he did. However, right now he wasn’t really able to think. He was so scared that it would turn out that they just weren’t meant to be. At least not like that.

“So, we need to work the rest out. Understood?”

This time James did and he nodded again. “How long?”

Jeremy shrugged his shoulders. “Depends. three months, max.”

James bit his lip, he could deal with that. Even though three months was a long time. This was also a big thing.

“This … this romantic thing is on hold. Max three months. You can still come over, we can still bicker. Also understood?”

James smiled weakly and nodded again.

“Don’t look so scared.” Jeremy gently nudged his side, and James just shook his head. He had never felt so insecure before.

“Three months,” James just repeated.

“Maximum,” Jeremy declared and moved a step closer. “Now, for that …” he muttered. James felt Jeremy’s warm hand on his cheek and moments later his lips on his. It was nicer than what they had done outside. It was really nice, James held onto Jeremy while kissing him back. There was no rush, no hurry, just a gentle long kiss they enjoyed. Jeremy smiled at him softly and patted his arm. “That should help.”

Then he turned on his heel and left. Yes, it helped. At least Jeremy wanted him too.

 

* * *

 

It took two months ... Two months. They had talked, were like the mates they always were. Then they pondered on the issue alone and later reported the result back to the other. This way, the two months didn’t seem that long. Still, it was two months until Jeremy had found James in the BBC office. James had just gotten himself a cup of coffee in the small kitchen when Jeremy was standing in the doorway.

“Want one too?” he asked casually putting his cup down.

James frowned as he saw Jeremy bite his lip. _Nervous?_ He wondered. Then a smile spread across Jeremy's lips and he stepped closer towards James.

“Yes,” he simply stated.

“Yes?” James asked, not sure to what that answer came. “To the coffee?”

Jeremy nodded. “Yes, just yes. To all of it. Yes.”

James frowned and smiled at the same time. He thought he understood. “Really? Yes?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?” James asked, feeling a nervous twitch in his hand.

“Yes, bloody hell. Yes.” Then he just kissed him. In a public room with an open door. They just didn’t care. James hummed happily and relaxed into Jeremy.

So they stood there, kissing. Two slightly fat middle-aged men, kissing each other in a BBC office. Jeremy softly holding James’ face in his hands, and James holding onto the other man by his waist.

It was wonderful. It was the beginning of something wonderful …

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prologue used to be part of to this prompt.


	25. Money

They were sitting in Jeremy's living room, and the television was playing quietly. Jeremy had his legs propped up on the couch table, his laptop sitting on his lap and was furiously typing his newest column. A hand lingered on his right shoulder and the man it belonged to – James May – was sitting next to him, a beer in his hand and he was actually paying attention to the television.

Even though that wasn't fully true, he was contemplating. With a sigh he also stretched his legs. “I think we should have a date,” James stated simply.

Clarkson was caught off guard, his mind had been too focused on writing. It took a moment before he was able to comprehend the words. “What?” he muttered.

“A date,” James explained. “You know how those work.”

“Yeah, generally.” Jeremy saved his writing before he turned to face James. “I thought you hate dating.”

“I do ...” James admitted quietly. Then he realized why this might sound odd coming from him. He didn't like dating because he found the notion that you go out to find someone for romantic and even sexual purposes absurd. It had always felt too forced for him. He had figured that the feelings would just come in time … and that had always happened. “But we're already … erm … boyfriends.”

They both had similar frowns on their faces. “That word doesn't sound right.”

“No.”

“We're too old,” Jeremy muttered. Boyfriends were young blokes who had recently discovered what an orgasm was and who had a libido to match it. “Partner?”

James nodded, he took a sip of his beer. “I like that.”

Jeremy closed his laptop and put it on the couch table. “You want me to court you then?” Jeremy asked, looking at James.

James couldn't keep eye-contact. With a slight flush on his face he looked away and nodded … almost shyly.

“Picking you up from home, with roses, in fancy dress, going to a really nice restaurant, maybe a candle light dinner?”

James wasn't even sure whether Jeremy was teasing him or testing him. Sometimes – James had discovered – it was mixture of both. Clarkson teased, but there was some honesty behind it. Something that he just wasn't able to convey in another way.

“Maybe,” James just muttered, taking his hand off Jeremy's shoulder to clutch his beer bottle.

“What's wrong with the pub?” Jeremy asked. At least it didn't sound like he was insulted. “I thought that was the easy part about … us.”

“Well, yes, it is. But ...” James cut off, he didn't know. He liked spending time with Jeremy casually. He liked that they went to the pub. For god's sake he liked that he could just leave his hand on Jeremy's shoulder while they were doing nothing. Still … he wanted something else. Something almost romantic. Almost? It was romantic! “Hang on, did you think that does pub visits counted as dates?”

Jeremy set about to answer and then caught himself. He waited a beat. “I don't know. Not really.” He frowned. “This line between friendship and partnership might be more blurred than we thought.”

“Yeah.”

“All right,” Clarkson replied and collected his laptop again.

“Huh?” James looked up from his beer bottle.

“I shall make you swoon,” Jeremy stated a grin on his face. “I'll treat you like the prettiest girl in town.”

James shook his head, though he couldn't hide the smile that formed on his face. He'd like that.

“You're as close as it's going to get.”

“Funny,” James stated dryly and rolled his eyes.

“Do you also want me to finish the date so that you're desperate for a wank?” Jeremy asked as he started the laptop. This way he couldn't see the blush that was settling on James' cheeks. He swallowed hard, little did the man actually know that James had … already taken care of that a few times with Jeremy on his mind …

James cleared his throat. “At least I have had sex with men before,” he replied before thinking any better of it. He thought that it would just be a variation of the childish comment they had throw as teenagers at each other: _At least I have had sex before!_

However, Jeremy stared at the laptop screen, blushing feverishly, and swallowed hard. “Erm ...” he began and cleared his throat. “I think we are now treading in territory we shouldn't make fun of.”

James nodded “Agreed.”

They stared at each other for a moment before a smile broke free. No harm done.

“Make sure you're free on Saturday. 7pm,” Jeremy just declared. “I'll pick you up.”

“Looking forward to it.”

 

* * *

 

James stood in front of his mirror, he sighed. Jeremy hadn't given him many instructions for their date. Actually he had only given him one: look good.

James didn't feel very good looking. He had no idea what he was doing as he wasn't very fashion conscious. Somehow he had this ability to make good clothes and crap clothes look equally crap. He had slipped into the only black suit he owned instead of the dark blue one. He knew that Jeremy's only suit was black-ish. _What is it called when it's not really black?_ James sighed, he really was a hopeless case. He just hoped that he didn't look as bad next to Jeremy as he felt.

Then there was his hair, he liked his hair. He wouldn't want to cut it. He had cut it a bit before shooting the studio part of series 12. After all he preferred to keep it shorter than shoulder length. As he wasn't a man who owned hair products, he could only brush it. That would have to do. Then he remembered that Jeremy's hair were more pubes than hair and he felt a little better about himself.

There was a knock, and James had almost jumped out of his skin. He checked the watch. _Was it already time?_ He wondered and yes, it was 7 PM sharp. He walked down the stairs, he waited a beat before he opened the door. A little embarrassed by his own outfit, he greeted Jeremy's shoes. However, he couldn't resist. His eyes wandered along Jeremy's body, the long and strong legs which were flattered by his suit trousers. Anthracite was the colour he had been looking for. The way the suit jacket hugged his chest and the black shirt which fitted brilliantly, maybe in an effort to hide his gut. Jeremy looked wonderful, James had concluded as his eyes wandered to his face. He could see Jeremy looking at him, in a way he had never seen anyone look at him. His mouth was slightly open, and he seemed to be searching for words.

“What?” James asked, suddenly feeling too aware of himself.

“Nothing. You just look ...” Jeremy cleared his throat. “You look wonderful.”

James bit his lip, a warm feeling was settling in his stomach. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you,” he muttered quietly. Maybe he wasn't as hopeless as he believed.

“Ready?” Jeremy asked, he stepped aside and showed him the Mercedes he had come with.

“Trying to impress me with fancy cars?”

“Always.” Jeremy smiled brightly.

“Just need to get my wallet.”

Before James could take a step back into the house. “No.” Jeremy stopped him. “You're my date. I'm paying, my money.”

James waited for a moment, he looked at Jeremy and nodded carefully. “All right.”

James followed Jeremy to the car. He didn't think much about it, though he noticed why Jeremy hadn't walked next to him. He opened the passenger door for him, allowing him to get in.

“Clarkson, I'm not a girl,” James protested.

“What? I'm just being a gentleman,” Jeremy defended himself. James looked at him darkly. The words _Jeremy_ and _gentleman_ didn't really fit together. Not at first glance.

“You don't need to treat me like a girl,” he just added as he sat down.

“You wanted me to court you,” he heard Jeremy muttered quietly as he went around the car.

James didn't add anything to that. He was right, of course. Damn the man.

Jeremy drove them to the restaurant and James was stunned into silence. He was so stunned that he didn't even dare to complain when Jeremy held the door open for him, or when he ordered the wine for them. James hadn't realized that asking Jeremy to court him would lead them to such a fancy place. It was quiet, a piano was playing softly, the lights were dimmed which appeared to give them all the privacy they wanted and needed.

After they had ordered their dishes James looked at Jeremy. He saw something shy in his eyes. James couldn't help but smile at that.

“Good?” Jeremy simply asked, and James could only reply with a nod.

Jeremy beamed with pride and winked at James. The conversation flowed smoothly as it always did between them. They talked about casual topics first, places where they had eaten prior, cities they both wanted to go to and former holidays they have had. James told him about Istanbul, where he had been in his youth. He loved the place. He'd like to visit it again. Jeremy had agreed.

The first course had arrived and Jeremy listened fascinated as James told him about the history of the place. James liked that he could catch Jeremy's attention like that. On _Top Gear_ they made fun of James' all-knowing and being a teacher. However, in reality Jeremy was leaning forward and listening intently.

During the main course, Jeremy was leading the conversation and told a thrilling story of the time he had gone Russia before _New Top Gear_. Jeremy had switched from wine to water, and James was the one who smiled brightly. He loved the way Jeremy told stories. Even if most things were exaggerated. It was always entertaining. By the end of the main course they were laughing so hard that the waiter had to ask them to be quiet.

Which they managed … almost. James was telling the story of how he had bought a pair of used ballet shoes and only used them to drive very sensible cars.

“You should write a column about that,” Jeremy suggested, after he had managed to drown the laughter with water. They didn't need to be disciplined, again. Especially since it would only make them laugh harder.

“I can't,” James muttered. “That only makes me look more odd.”

“I think it could work.” Jeremy shrugged his shoulders. “It's nothing to be ashamed of. You like the ballet. Fine. I wrote a whole column about giving myself a prostate exam.”

James snorted. “Yeah, thanks for that. I didn't need to read that.”

Jeremy bit his lip and cut off the next comment. Instead he picked up the topic of ballet. “Em likes the ballet too.”

“Oh?” James didn't mind when Jeremy was talking about his children. He liked them too.

“Maybe you could go see a show with her,” Jeremy suggested casually.

“Really?” James asked. “You'd … allow that.”

“Sure.”

James wouldn't admit it out loud, but he was honestly chuffed.

“Of course, only if she wants to. I've already been put into ballet duties.”

“I know,” James added. He had read that column too. “Did you like it?”

Jeremy just shrugged his shoulders. “It wasn't bad. Some explosions are missing.”

James rolled his eyes and he went on lecturing Jeremy that the ballet wasn't about explosions. It was about emotion, about passion … Jeremy, he was listening intently. Because he was learning something new about James.

 

* * *

 

James smiled to himself, things had gone well. Better than he would have expected. He liked this Jeremy, this utter gentleman. He didn't know that he had it in him. At least not towards James. Jeremy was busy enough driving that he didn't notice James watching him.

He pulled up in front of his house, turned to James and smiled shyly at him. Yes, James could get used to that. Jeremy got out of the car, walked over to James' side and opened the door for him. Now he didn't mind any longer.

“Thank you,” he muttered quietly. They walked up the short distance to James' door. He fished the keys out of his pocket. “That was really nice.”

Jeremy nodded. “Yeah, I think so too.” He waited for a moment, shifting his weight. “You still look fantastic.”

James felt a blush on his face. Jesus, he really wasn't used to that. “You too.”

A wide smile spread across Jeremy's face. Gently he cupped James' face and bent down to kiss him. Their lips met and James' rested his hand on Jeremy's hip. It was a soft kiss, but it could have lasted for a while.

James bit on his lip as they pulled apart. He pointed at the door. “Want to come in?” He was only half joking.

“Erm …”Jeremy shifted his weight. This time uncomfortably, James noticed. Maybe he had taken it a bit too far. After all Jeremy was quite new to this. It had only been two weeks.

“I won't do anything,” James explained quietly. Not if Jeremy wasn't comfortable with it; which he clearly wasn't.

“Yes, I know.” Absently he rubbed the back of his neck. “Still. I think we better leave it here. That would break the three dates rule.”

James laughed which relaxed Jeremy too. He shook his head but agreed. “All right.” He took a step towards Jeremy, kissed his cheek and then his lips.

Jeremy smiled brightly again, he nodded. Then he gave James' hand a squeeze and left. James waited in the doorway, watching as Jeremy looked over his shoulder once or twice.

“After all I need you desperate for a wank,” Jeremy shouted over his shoulder. There was his classic Jeremy again, James rolled his eyes. Though he had to admit the idea wasn't so bad.

 

* * *

 

The following week, they had done this again, just on Thursday, as Jeremy had the children over the weekend. This time it involved a little less courting on Jeremy's side, but more on James' side. He was the one who held the doors open and paid. Even though Jeremy still drove them about. This meant that they were walking up to James' house again.

They stood in front of his door just like the last time. James wasn't sure if he should make the offer again. In fear of scaring Jeremy off, he had chosen to wait until Jeremy would take the initiative. If he would never do that James would be okay too. There were worse things, he had concluded. After all James was a man with two healthy hands …

However, Jeremy shifted his weight, his hands in his pockets and muttered. “Ask me again.”

James was thrown off for a moment before he realised. A grin formed on his lips, he cocked his head and looked Jeremy in the eyes. Meanwhile the other man found James' shoes very fascinating. “Do you want to come in?”

Jeremy looked up and nodded. “Yes.”

James took a step forward and kissed Jeremy briefly before he unlocked the door, stepping aside to let him in.

Jeremy hadn't been ready to go all the way. They had had a great snog on the sofa and had chosen to keep it that way. However, James couldn't help the childish smile on his face when he woke up with Jeremy cuddled to his side, wearing one of James' shirt and sweats.

The man was drooling contentedly onto his shirt, his head resting on his chest, a leg wrapped around James', his left hand lost between them and the other one loosely lying on his chest as well. It left a little gap, as if Jeremy left it in case James needed the space. James didn't. James had his arm wrapped around Jeremy's shoulders. He looked at Jeremy, the slight stiffness that always seemed to be present in his shoulders was gone. James liked this. He liked seeing Jeremy like that, he concluded.

Another thing that he liked was the warm erection that was pressing into the side of his hip. Though he was also glad that Jeremy wasn't awake, he wasn't quite sure how he'd react. They hadn't really talked about … _that_ yet. In fact they hadn't talked about sex at all. James smiled to himself, yes, he really liked this. With a sleepy noise Jeremy pressed a little closer though he didn't wake up. James smiled down at him and kissed the top of his head. He closed his eyes again, falling asleep.

The next time James woke up he was alone in bed, but he could hear Jeremy fighting with his cat and the kitchen utensils. Somehow, he was glad for that. This way Jeremy wouldn't know that James had actually felt him. That would save them a fair amount of awkwardness. Or better put it would save Jeremy a fair amount of awkwardness. James was quite content with that. Even though he had some problems lying on his stomach now.

“Shit.”

 


	26. First Crush

James took a deep breath before he knocked on the door of Jeremy's flat. He held a bag in his hand, full of little snacks they both loved and wine they could drink. It had been a stroke of luck but there it had been: Jeremy's favourite wine. Soon he heard the key turn and the door opened.

“James. Come in,” Jeremy greeted him.

As James stepped inside, Jeremy briefly kissed him on the lips. _That was nice,_ James thought. They weren't very comfortable around people yet, or hadn't told anyone. Nevertheless he really liked the small gestures. Being kissed as a greeting, ever so briefly, was very high on that list.

“I can take that,” Jeremy offered after locking the door again. Jeremy walked into the kitchen to empty the bag. Meanwhile James was slipping out of his jacket and hung it up.

“So ...” he began, felling a bit nervous. It had been a month since they'd gotten together. Since Jeremy had kissed him so wonderfully in the BBC office. Jeremy seemed comfortable with all the things they had done so far. Though there was something they had both avoided. It was a bit of an elephant in the room. “We've got the flat to ourselves?”

Jeremy nodded. “Well, Emily is just about to leave. Brushing her hair or something. I didn't listen,” he began to explain. “Finlo and Katya are with Francie, Emily stays with her friend after the concert.”

“Right, the one in the O2?”

“Yes, that one.” Jeremy looked up and saw that James stood awkwardly in the living room. “You can sit down you know.”

James' shoulders sagged and he shook his head. Normally he roamed the flat like it was his own. Today … he guessed it was because he felt slightly nervous.

“Wine!” Jeremy cheered reading the label on the bottle. “James! My favourite!”

Finally James felt himself relaxing. He nodded and joined Jeremy in the kitchen. “I knew you'd like it.” he placed his arm around his shoulders.

“Yes, I do,” Jeremy muttered and kissed him softly. “Thank you.”

They were still so close to each other, James realized, and it was very nice. He liked that Jeremy didn't have any problems to adjusting to the relationship, or rather the fact that James was a man.

“Relax,” he heard Jeremy's voice and felt his lips briefly on his. “Shouldn't I be the nervous one? After all – as you have told me - you have had sex with men before.”

“Yeah, I know but ...” James bit his lip. “You know since … I haven't actually ...”

“I understand,” Jeremy stopped him gently. “We'll see what will happen.”

At those words James relaxed visibly and Jeremy gave him a reassuring squeeze. “That sounds good,” James muttered as he set out to kiss Jeremy again.

“That's even worse when you see it!” James jumped back a step when he heard Emily's voice. Through the shock he hadn't even noticed that she was mocking them.

“Relax,” Jeremy held out a hand for James. “She knows, I've told her months ago.”

James smiled weakly and took the hand, stepping closer to Jeremy again. Emily leaned against the kitchen counter and began to eat a chip. “How do I look?” she asked.

“Very good.” James smiled at her while her father just held his thumb up.

“My boys,” she cheered. “Now, you two behave, be home before midnight. I'm off to Rachael now.”

Jeremy nodded. “Have fun. Call me if you need anything.”

“Yeah, yeah,” and with that Emily was out of the flat. Jeremy cleared his throat and began to fill two glasses with wine. “Sorry, should have told you that I told her,” he explained weakly as he handed one glass over.

“No, yeah. It's fine. Your breed after all.” Jeremy let out an airy laugh and shook his head. Together they headed for the couch and sat down. “She said Rachael, I thought she was going to the O2?”

They sat down and Jeremy moved closer to him. “They are, but she doesn't know that I know.”

“She's stealing away? Why do you let her?” James asked, sitting on his own feet and slightly leaned against Jeremy.

“Well, for one I would have let her go anyway, but she thought I wouldn't have so no harm done.”

James shrugged his shoulder. “How did you find out?”

“Saw the tickets. She wasn't very keen on hiding them.” At that James began to laugh and shake his head. That had loosened the last nervous knot he had felt.  
  


* * *

 

 

 _We'll see what will happen_ , the words echoed through James' head as he set slumped against Jeremy. They were watching a film, Jeremy's hand resting on his shoulder and drawing patterns. Jeremy liked the film, at the same time James knew that from time to time his eyes drifted to see what James was doing.

After the film was over there had been a bit of an awkward moment. However, Jeremy being ... well Jeremy had overplayed it in his usual manner. “Normally when I have my arm around someone like that I expect to be kissed in the end,” he explained. James had turned slightly and looked up at the other man.

“Rubbish.” And Jeremy nodded in return. Nevertheless, James saw the offering and kissed him. At first it was was gentle and shy. Jeremy's hand wandered to the nape of James' neck and soon James relaxed fully into him. He leaned his weight against Jeremy and kissed him deeply. His hands rested on his shoulders, keeping himself steady.

Jeremy had not been surprised that he liked kissing men. However, he had been surprised that he hadn't been surprised by that. He loved kissing James, it was soft, gentle and at the same time there was a wonderful need behind it. The way that James often pressed his body closer to him, seeking the physical contact. The way that his hands would always delicately but determinedly hold onto his body. He just loved it. He hummed happily as he felt James move a leg between his.

Jeremy moaned against James' lips when he pressed his leg against his crotch. “Hmm, things are going very well,” he muttered.

“You utter clot.” James smiled and kissed Jeremy again, but he was right. They were relaxed, comfortable and god yes, James wanted him. He felt Jeremy's hand wander underneath his shirt and he let him. He pressed a little closer, he wanted him to feel his skin. He wanted all of it.

Suddenly a phone began to ring. James was determined to ignore it, but Jeremy wasn't.

“That's Emily,” he protested and that was enough to put a halt to all of it. James crawled off Jeremy's lap and handed him the phone. This could only mean that things had gone wrong. It was around midnight James realized.

“Emily? Are you all right?” Jeremy picked up the phone. He nodded, listening to all that Emily said on the other side. “Okay, okay. It's all right.” James swallowed hard.

Jeremy reached for James shoulder, telling him to stay put. “No, Em. It's okay, I know where you are. Go find someone who works there at the entrance. I'll be there in 30 minutes. Love you, Em.”

Just as Jeremy wanted to hang up he heard a shout of protest go through the phone. “Jesus,” Jeremy muttered. “Okay, I won't hang up.”

James was already on his feet and got his keys. “I'll drive,” he offered and Jeremy nodded. He quickly collected their shoes and coats.

“Please, for once in your life drive fast,” he commanded as they got into James' Panda.

He did, while Jeremy was consulting his daughter over the phone. He wondered what went wrong, but the more he thought about it the worse the scenarios became. Soon he pulled up in front of the entrance of the O2.

“All right, we're here. In James' Panda,” he explained to Emily. It didn't take him long to find his daughter. “Emily,” he called out as he jumped out of the car. He walked towards her and gave her a hug. She responded accordingly, digging her head into her father's chest. James smiled weakly, _at least she is fine._ Or not physically hurt, he didn't even want to think about what that would have done to Jeremy. He saw Clarkson kiss the top of Emily's head and then they headed back to the car. He opened the door for her. “Sit down,” he muttered and shoved himself into the back seat as well.

“Sorry, James,” she muttered and wiped tears away.

“Don't worry about it,” James replied and set off for the Clarkson flat. Jeremy kept an arm on Emily's back in an attempt to keep her calm.

“I'm so sorry, Dad,” Emily muttered and Clarkson shook his head. “I shouldn't have lied.”

“Don't worry about that,” Jeremy replied softly. It was hardly any good; Emily kept shaking her head and new tears started to form. “Come here, Em,” he muttered and pulled her into another hug. James watched the scene through the rear-view mirror, despite the circumstance it was heart warming to see him care about his children. Of course he did, they stood above everything. Even above James himself. He could fully understand that and he didn't mind at all.

The flat was reached very soon, and they seated Emily on the sofa. At first she got rid of the uncomfortable clothes though. Meanwhile the two men took the time to make her some tea.

“Thank you, May. That was very good of you,” Jeremy thanked him as he put the kettle down.

“Listen, maybe I should leave,” James offered, feeling a little out of place all of the sudden. Jeremy looked sadly at him. He didn't want to him to leave, that much was clear. However, it was most likely the more sensible thing.

“No, you can stay,” they heard Emily's voice from the living room. Both men turned around, and looked at her. She was wearing sweats and a baggy shirt. She didn't look as frightened as she had before. “I really don't mind.”

Jeremy smiled weakly and nodded. He filled a cup with tea and handed it over to Emily. James felt quite awkward as he follow suit, he sat on the couch chair while Clarkson sat down next to Emily.

“Want to tell me what happened?” Jeremy asked gently after Emily had taken a couple of sips.

“If you tell me how you knew where I was?”

Jeremy shook his head, but replied “I saw the tickets. You didn't hide them very well.”

“Why did you let me go then?” she asked putting the cup down.

“Em, because I would have let you go if you had asked. So I haven't seen any harm in it. Better let you sneak out and know where you are than otherwise.” Gently he placed a hand on her shoulder. James smiled at that, of course it was natural that he'd also be tactile with his children. “So, what happened?”

Emily sighed and leaned back. “Do you want the short version, or the long version?”

Jeremy shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever you want; it's after midnight after all.”

At that he got a weak smile out of his daughter. “All right, do you remember Rachael?” she asked, and both James and Jeremy nodded. “Well, we were at the concert. And I really like her, really, really like her.”

At first Jeremy frowned, then he looked at James wondering if he understood. Only looking at James was enough to answer how Emily had meant that. “Oh,” he muttered under his breath. He could fill in the rest of the story by himself.

“And afterwards I told her.” Emily let out a sigh, she began to wipe away a tear that hadn't formed yet. “But well … she doesn't like me. At least not like that.”

James bit his lip at that, while Jeremy just kept on drawing small soothing circles on her shoulder.

“Where did she go?” James asked, because Jeremy wouldn't have.

Emily started to clench her hands, a behaviour James had seen often enough on Jeremy. “Well, nothing. She said that she needed some time, and left. So I … well, I knew nobody there, I was supposed to sleep at her place, I got scared.”

Jeremy saw Emily's hands trembling, however, he chose to ignore it. She was trying to show that it hadn't bothered her as much as it had actually done.

James took a breath. “She's an arse,” he simply stated.

Clarkson couldn't help but let out a laugh. “She's not,” Emily protested.

 _Her first crush,_ Jeremy realized. They all had had one, one that usually either dragged them through the mud, or burned horribly.

“Em, I fear she is,” Jeremy agreed, and patted her daughter on the back. “She shouldn't have left you, you haven't hurt her. I'm sure you would have respected her wishes.”

“I would have, I do!”

“See, she's an arse,” James stated again and Jeremy agreed.

Emily shook her head, and took a deep breath. “Okay, maybe a little one.”

They stayed like that until Emily was ready to head off to bed, they talked about neutral topics; the concert itself, a bit about school. Then she left, hugging her father and patting James on the shoulder, thanking both of them. James sighed and sat down next to Jeremy. Gently he gave his leg a squeeze.

“Done well.”

“Thank you,” Jeremy muttered thoughtful. “Need to talk to her about the … thing tomorrow.”

James nodded, while the whole world seemed to believe that being queer was just easy, it wasn't. Despite all things, it needed to be talked about and Jeremy was aware of that.

“What was yours?” James asked after he got up. He wanted him to stop getting lost in his thoughts. They should go to bed, get some sleep.

“My what?” Jeremy asked, taking the hand James offered.

“First crush.”

“Ah, Sandy from the school next door. Had a wonderful pair of ---”

“Okay, I get it.” James cut him off.

“I was about to say 'hands'”

“Of course. Do turn around will you,” he asked of him, they were already in the bedroom and James had no intention to sleep in his clothes.

“Why? I was about to shag you tonight,” Jeremy simply stated and began to unbutton his shirt. It really wasn't anything romantic. They were just too tired for that.

James bit his lip, he wished that he could be so confident about his body. Neither of them was fitting society's standards any longer. “Right,” he muttered. Jeremy had already rid himself of his shirt.

“What was your first crush?” he asked as he stepped closer to James.

“Erm … neighbour's daughter,” he explained, feeling Jeremy's hands on his cheek.

“Forgot the name?” James just nodded as a reply.

The next thing he felt was lips softly meeting his own. One of Jeremy's hands wandered to the buttons of his shirt and slowly began to undo them, never breaking contact with him. It didn't take long before James felt the shirt slip and stood bare chested in front of him.

“I like it,” he heard Clarkson’s voice, when he looked up he saw an honest smile on his face.

 _Why have I ever been so shy?_ he wondered, for Jeremy it was apparently perfect. Or at least good enough.

“Bed?” Clarkson offered, quickly stripping out of his jeans as well. James licked his lips. _Strong legs,_ he mused. He shook his head and replied with “yes.”

“Here.” James caught a pair of sweatpants that was thrown at him. He slipped into them and crawled into bed as well.

“Good?” Jeremy asked, as they had settled in bed. He had one arm wrapped around James' shoulders, letting him rest on his chest. His head rested carefully on top of James'.

It was very nice, but James only nodded as a reply.

 


	27. Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contains explicit content.

Two different things woke James the next morning: one was the light that was shining through the bedroom window. James wasn't used to having a window that faced east. Clarkson must have been used to it, but still he seemed to be wide awake. This was indicated by the fact that he was lazily kissing along James' shoulder. James' second reason for waking up that morning.

“Jeremy?” he muttered sleepily, as a response he got a soft hum. “What are you doing?”

“Kissing,” he mumbled against his skin before he set out to continue the task. Just the night prior James had been too ashamed to undress in front of the man. Now he didn't even understand why. It was clear that Clarkson adored him and his body. That was a weird thought, but at the same time one that was very comforting. James turned and ran his hand through Jeremy's hair.

“Morning.” He smiled weakly, looking into Jeremy's sleepy eyes.

“Morning,” Jeremy replied, and ran his hand through James' hair. “At least you don't snore when awake.”

James smiled and shook his head. “Admit it, you like sleeping next to me.”

“Might,” Jeremy mumbled quietly and bit his lip.

“Do go on,” James encouraged, softly running his thumb along his jawline.

Jeremy shuffled closer and kissed James again. Sleepy and lazy kisses at first and later it turned into something more needed but still gentle. It was wonderful, James realized. They should wake up like that more often. James' hand settled on Jeremy's hip and pulled him closer. In fact the other man took the hint and settled between his legs. James took a sharp breath as he felt Jeremy align his body with his own. Leg to leg, chest to chest and _oh heaven_ … groin to groin.

Jeremy briefly broke contact asking. “Good?”

“Very,” James replied, maybe a bit too quickly. Jeremy didn't seem to notice, instead he continued with the task of kissing.

Soon Jeremy's lips trailed along James' jawline. After a month of kissing James, it was still a new sensation to feel the stubbles against his lips. One he enjoyed quite a lot, Jeremy realized quickly.

His mouth moved on to his neck; nibbling gently at a soft spot it caused James to wiggle slightly under him. _A good thing,_ Jeremy realized and filed that away. He tried again on the same place, applying just a little more pressure. James bit his lip and emitted a low moan. Jeremy watched, fascinated by it. He had to do that again, he told himself and kissed the same place again. James pressed his body closer and dug his nails into Jeremy. “Jesus,” he muttered before another louder moan escaped him.

“Shh,” Jeremy hushed him this time, while yes it had been the goal … “Em,” he reminded him.

A wall separated them and Jeremy didn't want to worry about how thick it might be. Especially when he was about to have sex with James for the first time. James shook his head and laughed quietly. Jeremy couldn't help but join in. He kissed him again ever so briefly. That's what it should be like, easy, relaxed. _We'll see what happens,_ his own words echoed in his mind. He would like it if it happened.

“James?” he asked, breaking their kiss.

“Hmm?” One of his hands hand gone under the waistband while the other was running along his smooth back.

Jeremy bit his lip, suddenly shy. This was stupid, they were already as good as naked on top of each other. Christ, Jeremy could feel James' erection! “Do you want to …?”

“Yes,” James answered with a wide smile.

“Sure?”

“Very.”

Jeremy nodded again. “I must warn you though, I have never done this with ...”

“A man?”

“Yeah.” That didn't come as a big surprise for James.

“It's not all that different,” James explained while he ran his hand over Jeremy's back.

“I know ...” Still something seemed to hold him back, James realized.

“Jeremy, you won't hurt me. I know you won't.” Gently he touched his face.

James felt the other man lean into the touch. Then he nodded, mumbling a short reply which James never understood. Soon they found themselves kissing again. James had hooked one of his legs around Jeremy's hip, after his sweats and pants were disposed off. And Jeremy had found the bottle of lube he had bought a week ago. He squeezed the substance onto his fingers and began to stretch James.

At first he carefully inserted one finger, still shy. Not really sure what the reaction would be. James smiled to himself, he felt his toes curl when Jeremy moved further in.

“More?”

“More,” James replied, he took another sharp breath as he felt a second finger. This time not so shy any longer. Jeremy was learning quickly, he learned how to read James body very well. Much to James' embarrassment the long fingers found that spot and James moaned loudly. He had never meant to and Clarkson bit his lip, finding himself short of breath just from watching James.

James' hair was a mess, his head was tilted back, his eyes closed; he looked wonderful. Jeremy kissed James deeply. God he wanted him, he knew that he did. Right now, he wanted to hear that sound from him again.

Slowly he added another finger, finding the spot again and being rewarded by getting James' nails dug into his back. “Fuck,” Jeremy muttered before he could think any better of it. There was a flush on James that he had never seen anywhere before. Ever.

“Okay?” Jeremy asked. James just nodded in reply. So Jeremy pulled his fingers out, which was met with a slight protest from the man under him. Quickly he rolled on a condom and lubed himself up carefully.

He let out a breath, positioning himself correctly. Or at least he hoped that it was correct. Before he could go any further into the list of problems which he might encounter he felt James' hand resting on his shoulder and giving him a soft squeeze. “Gently,” he muttered, there was a smile on James' face, and Jeremy couldn't quite pinpoint what it meant. Jeremy just nodded, he bent down and kissed him deeply.

Maybe for the first time that James could remember Jeremy had managed to do gently all the way. He read James' body very carefully. He could tell when he shouldn't move as fast, when he should pause to let James adjust and when he could do as he pleased. What gave him the most pride and joy was getting the adequate reaction from James when he grazed James' prostate.

With James' legs wrapped around Jeremy's hips they moved in a steady rhythm. With each thrust James could feel himself coming closer. He kept his moans at bay and often they were muffled by Jeremy's tongue anyway.

When Jeremy felt himself being just a bit too close, he reached between James' legs and took him in his hands. James moaned which was muffled by Clarkson as he began to stroke. Gentle but determined.

“Fuck,” James muttered against his lips as his legs tightened around Jeremy. “Fuck, just fuck. I think I'm ---” He didn't even manage to finish the sentence as he threw his head back. Having the advantage of height, Clarkson still managed to capture his lips and muffled most of the groans that escaped him. He held him through all of this, waiting until the tremors had died down. He didn't really care about the sticky semen on his hands. Instead he kept moving, feeling James' hand stroke his back and whispering encouraging words into his ear.

“It's all right, let go.” Jeremy buried his head in James' shoulder and felt his abdomen tighten. There was a soft grunt as the muscles in his back tightened and his arm trembled; James held him through it.

Afterwards Jeremy collapsed onto James, almost knocking the breath out of him. Before Jeremy could go on and apologise, James kissed his cheek and let him rest on top of him, head still dug into his shoulder.

“It's okay,” James just mumbled because it was okay. More than that, it had been wonderful. James smiled to himself. After a few moments Jeremy rolled off of the other man, eyes still closed. However, he kept his arms around James, just not wanting to break the contact any time soon. James let him, for a while. Then he carefully rolled the condom off of Jeremy and threw it in the bin. He also went into the bathroom to clean himself up.

“That was nice,” he heard Jeremy mutter sleepily as he settled back in his arms.

“Yes, it was.” James kissed him and Jeremy kissed him back. “We should do that again.”

“Gladly.”

 


	28. Dice

Jeremy leaned back, his head resting on one hand, his right hand on the mouse as he was scrolling through the website. Work had become boring quickly. He didn’t want to look at press releases of cars he didn’t care about. Why were they even sent to them? Couldn’t they hire a bunch of under-paid interns to do this for him? Then again they’d most likely get it wrong …

Instead of doing actual work Jeremy was doing research. Just not for work. However, he had become curious. This usually ended on the internet.

With a sigh he scrolled further down. He hadn’t had to go on the internet as a teenager. Back then he just asked what to do, what felt nice and so on. While now, with James, it wasn’t so different … he couldn’t ask that.

Even though he was pretty sure that James wouldn’t even laugh at him. Then he would explain it and that would just be dreadful and awkward for Jeremy. The internet was the safer option, he figured.

Jeremy knew the basics: no teeth, be gentle. Beyond that his knowledge was minimal; rather non-existing. That had bothered him. He had come to that realisation … in bed. He had wanted James to feel good in another way and he wanted to feel him in that way but had almost no idea how. Instead of just going for it, he had chosen to do the usual and hope that James hadn’t noticed the pause.

Which had put him in the position he was in now. At first he had feared that the research might even turn him on, which would be a very awkward thing to happen in the BBC office. However, nothing was less sexy than googling how a blow job worked.

With a sigh Jeremy rubbed his face … he was embarrassed too. He had had sex before, but before James he hadn’t had sex with men. _If James even counted as a man,_ he joked in his head. And still he had to do that. If James was a woman that wouldn’t have happened. Then again, if James was a woman Jeremy figured he would have started to fuck him/her sooner.

Jeremy rolled his eyes. James was a man, a very lovely man. A man Jeremy was attracted to, as grotesque as this might sound. This had left the problem that Jeremy hadn’t had sex with men before James. More or less he was a virgin … James wasn’t. And yes, while the anal sex wasn’t very different from anal sex with women, other things were. Besides wanking, he had no idea how to go about those things.

With a sigh he clicked on the next page. They were repeating by now. He was familiar with the technicalities, he should manage, Jeremy concluded. It just said the same content here and saying that it wasn’t a perfect recipe as every partner liked something else.

“Great,” Jeremy muttered. What if James didn’t even like blow jobs, he wondered for a moment. He knew that James liked to give them, having experience that himself. Jeremy let out a happy sigh, yes they enjoyed that.

However, they didn’t talk about who liked what, they just sort of knew. Jeremy could spot what made James squeamish and he noticed when he was enjoying something. They were just reading the obvious and subtle signs.

It would be too awkward to talk about … Jeremy concluded. God, how Jeremy would start to blush and run out of the room if James would ask him if he’d like to take it up the arse this time … Dreadful. He didn’t mind making jokes about sex, he didn’t mind talking about it in theory, he didn’t mind making sex jokes about himself, and he didn’t mind making sex metaphors. However, when it came directly to him, and out of the blue … that was too uncomfortable.

A knock on the door made Jeremy jump. “Speak of the devil,” he muttered, seeing James poke his head inside.

“Were you thinking about me?” he teased and walked inside the room. He grabbed the opposite chair and sat down.

“Maybe,” Jeremy replied, looking at the open page. He closed it with no hurry otherwise, James would know that he had been up to something. “No nice things. I promise.”

“Mmmh.” James took the dice which were laying on the desk. “Are you child free at the weekend?” he asked.

“As it happens, I am not,” he explained. The times he had his children weren’t regular, it was a mix. Hence, James' question didn’t cause any offence. “Got Katya.”

“Have you told her about …” he pointed between them.

“Err, no,” Jeremy muttered quietly, they had told so little people. Not even a handful. “I might though. Not sure yet.”

James rolled the dice, added the number and then took them into his hand again. “When you’re ready.”

Jeremy smiled weakly, he watched as James rolled the dice again. This time he snatched them away from him before he could count them.

“Oi! Fat man!” James warned him.

A wicked smile formed on his lips, he winked at him. “Anyway, I happen to be free on Thursday night.”

“Are you?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

“Yup. Are you?”

“Yes.”

Jeremy rolled the dice again, he left them there. “Good, I’ve got a surprise for you.”

James shifted his eyes and nodded. He collected the dice and neatly put them back into their place. “Okay. My place or yours?” he asked.

“Doesn’t matter.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been accused of cheating in this prompt. I am inclined to agree ;)


	29. Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contains explicit content as well.

James was cooking dinner for them. He had gone home earlier than Jeremy, the man needed the over time from this day so he could leave earlier tomorrow. It was always a little weird when they worked in the office. When they shot films there were no weekly hours, not that their contract worked like that. However, it had turned out that when they weren't filming the 40h week was needed nevertheless.

Jeremy would work little tomorrow, so he could pick Katya up from school. Over the whole week he had added an hour or two to his normal working time. This meant that James had left earlier than him and said he'd just make them some dinner. He could actually cook and Jeremy adored his shepherd's pie; this was what he was cooking right now.

He moved the pie out of the oven and put it on a plate to let it cool. He took another sip of his wine. Then he leaned back, watching as Fusker ate its own food.

“Now, you know the rules,” he began to talk to the cat. “No jumping on Jeremy's face. You know he gets asthmatic then.”

The cat didn't take any notice of him and just kept on munching. There was a knock on the door. The pattern belonged to Jeremy, James knew.

“I warned you, Fusker!” he warned the cat. Then he walked to the door and opened it. “Hey, Jezza ...” he began.

Jeremy cut him off quickly and very efficiently. He took a step inside and kissed James, took his face in his hands and pressed his body against his.

“Mmh” James hummed happily as soon as he recovered from the shock. With his feet his kicked the door shut and pulled Jeremy closer. “What's that all about?” he asked a little taken back.

“Can't wait,” he muttered against his lips. “Don't know how else ...” Jeremy cut himself off, kissing James again. This time more eager. James wasn't taken aback feeling his warm body pressed against his. So very very nice.

“For what?” he mumbled as Jeremy made his way down his neck, leaving little bite marks and nipping the soft flesh.

“Surprise,” he muttered and James rolled his head back. “Let me show you.”

“O – okay,” James stuttered, still he felt excitement in his body. Even more so when Jeremy took his hand, dragging him up the stairs. James quietly smiled to himself, despite Jeremy's urgency he felt his thumb gently running over James' hand.

“Just … just tell me when I'm going too far,” Jeremy stated as he gently pushed James into bed; he was now sitting on the edge watching Jeremy.

“Okay.” Now James had a rough idea what was happening. “Do I need a safe word?” he joked.

“Erm ...”

“How about 'stop you utter cock'?” James offered with a smile, suddenly feeling the blood rush to his face.

Jeremy turned around, a bright smile on his face. “Perfect,” he muttered. His voice was too soft to only refer to James' offer. Then he stepped towards him, his hand slowly tracing along his shoulder and his neck.

James didn't dare to say anything, mesmerized by what was happening, by the way Jeremy was looking at him. As if he was this all consuming entity, he nodded a little. Jeremy kissed him again, softly this time.

A slow kiss, he gently pushed him into a lying position. Jeremy pulled James' shirt over his head, and settled a leg between James'. He bent forward kissing him. James' hands travelled along his back, finding the hem of his shirt and began to pull it out. Jeremy let him, so James began to undo the buttons, finding his warm chest. He ran his hand over it, feeling the patches of hair. Jeremy smiled, biting his lip when James looked at him. James was still fine and nodded at Jeremy to show him such.

James gave his shoulder a small squeeze, so Jeremy's hand travelled downwards. The fingertips settled under the hem of his trousers. James' nails were slowly digging in while Jeremy's mouth was travelling along his shoulder.

James closed his eyes, letting out a pleasant hum. He tipped his head slightly back, letting out a long breath. Handing himself over to Jeremy's skilful ways. His hand dug a little further into Jeremy's shoulder as he felt him push down his trousers and pants.

For a moment everything stopped, Jeremy was settled between James' legs looking up at him. James' hand gently stroked Jeremy's shoulder, eyes still closed. Jeremy bit his lip, he began to kiss along his thigh. He nibbled at the skin, causing James to buck his hip and let out a satisfied moan. Jeremy could go on with that, he knew. Feeling the warmth pool lower, Jeremy gave his other thigh as much attention.

“Mmh,” James hummed happily and bit back a low moan. His hand was stroking Jeremy's shoulder, encouraging him. The man took the cue, James felt his tongue travel along the length of his cock. James squeezed his eyes shut, enjoying the wet touch and let out a sharp breath.

 _Oh god yes,_ James let out a moan. He had actually thought about this, he had imagined it, but this was far better. Jeremy moved his shoulder under one of James' legs, giving him a better angle. One of his hands was stroking along his thigh while the other was rested on his waist, holding him in place. James smiled to himself.

He felt Jeremy take him in his mouth, slowly and carefully. James held still, not wanting to do any wrong movements. This was new territory for Jeremy, he knew. James swallowed hard, he felt him pick a pace, slow but steady. It was wonderful. James heard and more importantly he felt Jeremy hum. James gave his shoulder a squeeze and a long low moan escaped him.

Saliva was running along the side of his cock and neither of them cared. Jeremy picked up the pace. His nails digging into his waist, he could feel him shift a little and James could feel himself slowly become undone. It was sweet, warm and wonderful. His legs tightened and his breathing became irregular.

“Jeremy ...” he muttered between breaths, warning him. But Jeremy didn't stop, he didn't move away. James tried to hold back, at least until he realized that this was what Jeremy wanted. He let go, digging his nails into Jeremy's shoulder, moaning as his abdomen tightened and his breath hitched.

It took a while until James came back to himself, he looked down, seeing that Jeremy was still seated between his legs. He was sitting on his own, looking a bit proud of himself and awaiting a verdict. James smiled brightly at that image.

“Good?” Jeremy muttered.

“Very,” he replied. “I wouldn't mind if you'd do that again.” James was careful with the wording.

“Me neither,” Jeremy replied.

“Now … come here.” He took Jeremy's hand and pulled him up to him. They kissed and James could feel a salty taste in his mouth. Jeremy smiled as he noticed that James had noticed.

James stroked along the length of his back, until his hands settled around his waist. With a swift movement he pulled Jeremy's pants down. Jeremy let out a moan as he felt James' hand on his own hard cock. He began to stroke him, and Jeremy buried his head in James' sweaty shoulder.

Jeremy was already affected by the previous event. James steadied him and stroked faster. “It's all right,” James muttered against his skin as he felt Jeremy's body begin to shake. It didn't take very long until his body tensed and James heard a soft set of moans. “I've got you.”

 


	30. Fireflies

Jeremy sat in the conservatory, a beer in his hand, watching the sun setting over the fields. He was a city-boy. However, when presented with a view like this he was glad to have enough money to also afford a house in the Cotswolds.

Today had been a very good day, Jeremy realized and smiled to himself. Telling Emily about the relationship with James hadn't been hard. Being the eldest she had noticed that her father was thinking – if not over-thinking – something, she had asked and soon Jeremy let it slip that it was James. She was the one that put an end to most of the over-thinking and her urging had lead to their kiss at the BBC. The thing that still made him feel proud of her was that she didn’t seem surprised, or appalled. Could have easily happened. Sooner or later he had to tell all of his children. So today he had done that. Not all of them, he had only had Emily and Katya.

The deal he had with Francie was a complicated one. Basically he had each child on another weekend and one weekend he would have all of them. Often they organised things in a way that he would have two on one weekend, all three on another and one alone, and have a weekend to himself. That was currently spend with James or the _Top Gear_ crew. Next week he would have the whole lot, after that it would only be Finlo.

Then he would tell him; tell him that his new partner was a man, and James May. Things had gone well with Katya. The youngest didn’t seem to have a care about the matter, maybe she was just too young for prejudice … Jeremy had sat down with her, at her imaginary tea party, somehow the topic had drifted towards the boyfriend Sally The Bear had and then Jeremy explained that he had one too.

“Boyfriend?” Katya had asked, excitement in her eyes.

“Yes,” Jeremy had answered carefully, soon he had gone on explaining it was James and that they’d like to keep it a secret. Oddly enough Katya had understood that … In the end she had seemed happy, even asked for James to come over.

Clarkson had found himself on the phone and James had agreed.

Jeremy took another sip and was gently nudged at his shoulder. The hand was very small. “Hey,” he muttered and wrapped an arm around his daughter’s body. Still with Sally the Bear in the hand she snuggled up on her father’s side. Sitting on his lap and her head resting on his chest. Jeremy had noticed for a while that Sally The Bear was a constant companion. He wasn’t sure if she also did that at Francie’s place. It was like a little comfort blanket for her.

Clarkson had won Sally at a fair over a year ago, it had been the first time since he had gotten Katya after the divorce. Softly he smiled and kissed the top of her head. “You all right?” he asked. She nodded and huddled up further in his chest.

“Where is James?” she muttered and closed her eyes.

“Don’t know, most likely lost,” he joked and gave her a soft squeeze. “Don’t worry about it. He’ll be here.”

Katya cuddled a little closer, they waited in silence. Jeremy enjoyed the closeness with Katya; she was that one that enjoyed it the most. Finlo refused to even be hugging, claiming that he was getting too old. Jeremy sort of agreed with that, but he hated it nevertheless. While Emily didn't mind the physical contact, he couldn't do what he was doing to Katya with her.

The girl lay cuddled up in her father's lap, enjoying the warmth and loosely holding onto Sally The Bear.

“Dad?”

“Hmm?”

“I miss you.” Jeremy smiled sadly and felt his heart sink. He had missed her too, he loved the weekends he had with his kids. He was always heartbroken when it didn't work out. But then there was work, and Francie also demanded weekends with them. Jeremy had learned the hard way to not argue too much. He still remembered the awful three months where Francie had simply kept them away from him. What choice did he have? Though hearing it in Katya's quiet voice still cut deep.

“I'm sorry,” he muttered and hugged her tightly. “I've missed you too. But I love you very very much.”

“I know,” she replied back. “Love you too.”

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. Jeremy jumped and Katya did too. However, unlike her father she hadn't been surprised. Instead she ran off shouting that she'd be back in a moment. Jeremy took another sip of his beer and opened the door.

“May.”

“Clarkson.” James wiped his feet and entered. Softly Jeremy kissed him and helped him out of the jacket.

“Katya just ran off,” he explained and James nodded. Jeremy had already told James all that had happened. How he had broken the news to Katya and the fact that she had reacted well.

As they were about to settle on the sofa, they heard the soft thuds which made their way down the stair. “James!” Katya called out happily and ran towards him. Jeremy smiled softly, his heavy heart was lifted. She carried something in her small hands, even though it was covered in a towel.

“Katya. How are you?” James asked and held out his hand. Katya took it, sometimes he forgot that such a tall man as Clarkson could produce such a small human being.

“Here,” she mumbled and held out the things that was in her hand.

James took it. “Thank you,” he replied and pulled the cloth down. It was a small jar, filled with fireflies, softly swirling around the glass.

“Wow, Katya. Thank you, that is lovely,” James realized, honestly chuffed. He turned the jar around finding them buzzing around. Then Katya hugged him. And given James' height and Katya's opposite of height, she only managed to hug his leg.

They spent some time together. Katya had settled again on Jeremy's lap, this time without Sally The Bear and they were watching television. At least until it was too late and Jeremy thought it best to bring Katya to bed. Obviously, this was accompanied with some protests, but Clarkson simply threw her over the shoulder and carried her up. The small girl couldn't protest, still she tried and was giggling all the way back to bed.

“I love you, Little One,” Jeremy told her and kissed the top of her head when tucking her in. When he came back into the living room he found James holding the jar of fireflies in his hands.

“That was really nice of her,” James muttered when he saw Clarkson.

“Yeah, she must have been hunting them when she got all muddy,” he explained and sat back down.

“You okay?” The jar was put back. He would take them back to Hammersmith, and keep them somewhere in the house.

“Hmm?” Jeremy asked. “Why do you ask?”

“You looked a bit … downcast when I knocked,” he explained gently. “I thought you'd swoop me in your arms and take me to the bed----”

“All right, I get it!” Jeremy stopped him. Then he took a deep breath. “Katya told me that she missed me.”

James looked sadly at Jeremy. He had never assumed that this would be easy. Not for Clarkson, nor for his children. He knew that Clarkson missed them, he knew that he wished that he could spend more time with them. However … hearing him say all of that. “Come here.” James shuffled a little closer and wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

 


	31. Candy

“So you’re going to tell Finlo now.”

“Well, yes. I think so … I mean Emily and Katya already know and that only leaves him.”

“You scared?”

“A little,” Jeremy admitted, looking from the kitchen to the living room. His son was sitting on the couch, playing video games, completely unaware of the phone conversation that took place between his father and James.

“I don’t think he’ll be angry. Maybe because we haven’t told him in three months,” Jeremy sighed, and shook his head. “But not because … you know.”

“We’re two men,” James stated the obvious.

“Yes, that.” Jeremy waited a little before he went on. “I mean I never told him that it was wrong. And I always said that should any of my children be homosexual that we need to talk about it. Because it needs to be talked about it. It’s not as easy as that, no matter how much I wish it’d be.”

“Clarkson, I’m aware.”

“Right.” Jeremy stopped.

“Clarkson?” came after a long moment of silence.

“Hmm?”

“Go.”

“Right.”

“Good luck.”

“… yeah, I’ll bribe him with candy.”

“Good plan,” James replied, he didn’t want to be the one to hang up. After all he was unsure if Jeremy still needed him.

“Okay, well. Thanks mate.” Then Jeremy hung up. He sighed and looked at the bowl of candy in front of him. Why was he so unsure? It hadn’t been that hard with Emily. Then again, Emily was queer and had been there while James and Jeremy’s relationship had been in consideration.

Jeremy sighed. “Hey, Fin?” he asked from the kitchen.

His son didn’t turn around, still concentrated on the game he was playing. “Yeah?”

“Want some candy?” Clarkson asked, wondering if Finlo could hear the nervous strain of his voice as well.

“Always.”

Jeremy nodded and bit his lip. He went into the living room, placed it on the couch table and sat down next to him. Not a thank you but it didn’t matter, not really.

“Can I talk to you after you’ve finished?” Jeremy asked carefully.

“Sure, just a few minutes,” Finlo replied still concentrated on the game. So Jeremy watched as his son skilfully drove a digital car around a muddy track. Soon he crossed the line and Clarkson kept a joyful shout of “Across the line!” to himself. He was too nervous. The game was saved and Finlo turned towards him.

“I haven’t done anything wrong, you know,” Finlo quickly stated and Jeremy found himself smiling.

“Yes, I know. It’s … I’ve got some news which you should know about,” Jeremy began carefully, watching carefully as Finlo stole some candy.

“Okay.”

“Well, you know that your Mum is dating Colin.” A nod from Finlo as he shoved a Milky Way into his mouth. “Right, and after a while … well, I’m also seeing …” _S_ _ay it Clarkson! Say it! Don’t be chicken-hearted!”_ “... someone.” _Nice one! You coward!_

“Right,” came back, not a moment too late or soon.

_Okay, he seems fine with the idea of you dating someone._

“Do I know her?” Finlo asked after a while.

Jeremy bit his lip. _Her_ , but of course he had never showed them that he had an interest in men. Francie might have suspected, but he had never seen any point in ‘coming out’. He felt the concept was stupid to begin with.

“Well, yes, you actually do,” Jeremy stated, he waited for a beat. Well, of course he wanted to know the name. “It’s erm … it’s James.”

Then he saw various emotions flick across Finlo’s face: confusion, something that looked like amusement, and before he could categorize it as a joke Jeremy quickly added. “I’m not joking.” And given the next emotion which Jeremy couldn’t quite define he had almost apologised for it. Then he saw something that came close to anger. _Oh no._

Before the silence could settle too long, Jeremy began talking, trying to explain. “We … I … thought, well, better tell you, you know. After all, you’re my son.”

“Aha.”

“And you like James. And … I know it’s a bit weird that I have a partner now.”

“A man.”

“No, that’s not the weird bit,” Jeremy blunted out before thinking better of it.

 _Was Fin really thinking that Jeremy liked men was the weird thing?_ He wondered, his mind running too fast. He had believed that he would be angry that he just had a partner, no matter the gender. Maybe he had known … maybe that’s why he had been so scared. Why it had taken so long with Finlo, but was so easy with Emily.

“It is, you’re gay.”

“No, listen. So some people like only women.”

“Like Emily?” Jeremy paused for a moment. Emily had confided in Jeremy that while she was currently dating another girl she hadn’t lost interest in boys. But only Clarkson knew that, so he just nodded.

“Like you should?”

“Should?” he asked.

“Yes, you’ve been married to Mum. You should like women.”

“No, listen Fin. You can like both, men and women. Just as you can like both Milky Way and Snickers. I just don’t care which one I get.”

“It’s stupid!” Finlo shouted, Jeremy raised his hands to calm him down. This wasn’t going very well.

“I know this is a lot to take in, but …”

“I don’t want to have a gay dad!”

Instead of getting bogged down with the little detail that if he had to put a label on himself he’d prefer bisexual, he just went on to search for the problem, “Why?” he asked, his voice surprisingly calm.

“All my friends will make fun of me! They’ll hate me! And it’s your fault!”

“Well, if they do that then they’re not your friends,” Clarkson replied with the usual sentence. He knew that children of same-sex couples would always encounter some problems. It was just a fact and stupid to pretend otherwise. “But listen, we’re not going public. They don’t have to know.” Fact was that James and Jeremy didn’t even want them to know.

“I want to go back to Mum,” Finlo protested quietly, and turned away from Jeremy.

That sentence hurt far more than all of what had been said prior. Jeremy didn’t know what to say. This just went from bad to worse.

“Fin, you only arrived a few hours …”

“I said: I. Want. To. Go. To. Mum’s,” Finlo protested and got up from the couch. “I don’t want to be here! I want to go to Mum’s!”

“Finlo, please.”

“No. Fuck you! I want to go home!” he shouted again and ran to his room, the door slammed loudly. Had they been in the London flat, people would have complained.

Jeremy was about to run after his son, tempted to shout at him for slamming of the door. However, in the end he retreated, sitting on the couch and wondering what to do. He cherished the weekends with his children. Only last week they had gone to a fair. Now … Jeremy wasn’t keen on keeping Finlo here against his will.

Closing his eyes he reached for his phone, opened Francie’s contact info … how would he explained that to her? He was sure that Francie already knew about the relationship. Most likely through Emily, he had never told Francie. They didn’t talk about that. Jeremy knew she was still together with Colin, but the last people they’d get relationship advice from was each other.

Jeremy sighed and got up, he gently knocked on Finlo’s door and opened it without waiting for a reply.

“Fuck off,” came back as soon as he entered.

“Here, call your mother,” Jeremy began, ignoring the comment. “I’m not keeping you here against your will. Explain to her what happened, see if she can pick you up. If not I can drive you.”

Finlo’s back was still turned, but he saw some of his resolve crumbling. Jeremy placed the phone on his bed and left the room again.

Half an hour after Francie had agreed to pick Finlo up, Jeremy held the phone in hand again. He felt horrible. He hadn't thought that Finlo would react like that, he couldn’t have known. He was torn, he felt guilty, because he had caused all of this. If only he could be like everyone else, have a normal job, a working marriage, and not be ‘gay’. At the same time he knew that he had done nothing wrong. It was hard, so the only thing he wrote to James was “Didn’t go well. Francie is picking him up” and sent it.

No reply came.

 

* * *

 

Francie was quiet and tactful as she collected Finlo and drove back home. Jeremy sat on his couch, the bowl of candy on the table. He sighed, the house so empty, his son gone. Who knew when he’d come back …

He had fucked it all up and was alone. Again. It didn’t take much more and he started to cry. His arms were propped up on his knees and he held his head in his hands. Someone unlocked the front door, sat down next to Jeremy and strong but gentle arms wrapped around his body.

“Jezza, come here,” Jeremy heard James’ voice and was soon nestled into the warmth of his chest.

“The first time in your life you didn’t drive slow,” Jeremy muttered against his shirt. James had arrived exactly one and a half hours after the text had been sent. That was roughly the time Jeremy needed from Chipping Norton to Hammersmith. As a reply James just kissed the top of his head and pulled him closer.

 


	32. Guess

The cold water was running soothingly over his skin. Jeremy closed his eyes, letting it travel the way it wanted to.

Jeremy let out a breath. The water had woken him up a little bit. Not that he had slept a lot. The insomnia was getting worse and he wasn't sure if this was because of the stress at work or his private life.

With a sigh he turned the water to warm and began to enjoy the tickling of his skin as it sensed the change of temperature. He leaned against the still cool shower wall, eyes closed just letting his mind wander. It kept wandering, not much he could do. Sometimes he enjoyed it … this time, in the shower he did. The other times, at night when trying to sleep when James was already softly snoring and his mind started to list the problems in his life he couldn't change anyway, he didn't like it.

“Morning,” he heard James' voice as he padded into the bathroom.

“Morning,” he replied eyes still closed. He could hear James taking a piss and flushing the toilet. There was a brief change in temperature as he washed his hands.

Jeremy let out a sigh and opened his eyes, he leaned forward letting the water drop on his shoulder and back.

“Hey.” James' head peeked into the shower. “How is the bum scratch?”

An airy laugh escaped Jeremy and he shook his head. “Doing well, I think.” He smiled weakly at him. Only yesterday Jeremy had come to James whining that he may have done something stupid near his bottom and he couldn't check himself.

James nodded. “You didn't sleep a lot?”

Jeremy just shook his head, he thought he had been careful not to wake James. Maybe he hadn't been successful. Or maybe one could read if off his face.

“Do you mind if I …?”

Jeremy was already shaking his head. James' head disappeared for a moment before the man himself stepped into the shower. He gave Jeremy a quick kiss and then grabbed the soap.

“Did you sleep okay?” Jeremy asked, he would have hated for James to be kept up because Jeremy couldn't sleep.

“Yes,” he replied. “Don't worry about it.” Then he began to soap up his back.

“Turn around,” Jeremy muttered and took the soap off him. James obeyed and let Jeremy's hands work his back. They were gentle but firm at the same time. James let out a relaxed breath.

“What kept you awake?” James asked as he felt his hand leave his shoulder. For a moment he could feel Jeremy's lips on his left shoulder. Other partners had avoided the scar, Clarkson seemed to cherish it.

“Stuff,” Jeremy replied and began to soap up his arms. James washed off shaking his head.

“Do you want to fill me in?” he asked.

Jeremy took a deep breath leaning against the wall. “Fin,” he just stated.

James' shoulders sagged and he nodded. “Oh.” They hadn't talked about him, as Jeremy hadn't come forward and James didn't want to push. James only knew what he had told him on the day he drove out to Chipping Norton. That he had shouted at Jeremy and wanted to go back to Francie. Now, a month later, he still hadn't heard from his son.

“James, you know that I put my children above everything. Even above ...” His voice dropped, looking at James with an almost apologetic smile. “... you. You know that.”

“I do,” James replied softly. “And it's okay.”

“But that doesn't … it's not always true. It's like a priority system,” he tried to explain. “Because generally to make sure that Finlo would be happy I'd have to break up with you. I'm nowhere near doing that. It wouldn't change who I am and who knows if it'd change his opinion of me and my – how did he put it – gay side. I tried explaining bisexuality to him and that didn't work either.”

James bit his lip, he nodded. “How did you … explain that?”

“Like I feel about it. That I just don't care which I get.” Jeremy shrugged his shoulders. “I know that that's a bit different of how you think of it. But I really don't care.”

James found a smile on his face and shook his head. He placed a comforting hand on Jeremy's arm. “I know.” While James was drawn to both men and women, Jeremy didn't regard gender when it came to attraction. When it came to acting on it, then he did. However, that was another chapter. That's why Jeremy didn't actively identify as bisexual because he still seemed a little bit off the definition. If someone had to put a label on him, he preferred that.

“I just don't understand it.” Jeremy let out a sigh.

“What? Bisexuality?”

“No.” A smile formed on his lip. “I do understand that. I mean Fin's reaction.”

James nodded, he gave his arm a slight squeeze as if show support. That he would be here, listening, giving him comfort if needed.

“I've never said anything bad about homosexuality, or the like. Yeah, I made a joke or two. But generally no. I must admit that I haven't really said anything to support it either. I'm very liberal about those things. If it makes someone else happy who am I to tell him what he can't do with his … erm … chap.” Jeremy sighed. “I guess it wasn't very wise. So he had no opinion on the matter but jokes and the first opinion he heard was seen as the correct one and that apparently wasn't a positive one.”

“Jeremy ...” James cut off, he contemplated how to put the next thing into words. “You've said it before, that children who have the same-sex parents will have a harder time.”

“Yes.”

“… it might only have something to do with you indirectly.”

“Huh?”

“Finlo is already the son of divorced parents,” James stated carefully. “And now it turns out that his father is – and it looks like this to the world – gay. You can see why ...” _he wouldn't want that._

Jeremy's shoulders sagged and a dark shadow settled across his features. James hadn't meant to do that, but sometimes Jeremy was very good in ignoring the elephant in the room.

“But ...” Jeremy shook his head. “I've told him that we didn't plan on telling anyone.”

“Maybe he just … I don't really know. I can only guess,” James began to stumble over the words. “Maybe he just needs some time. After all he can't hate his father for that. No matter what a big arse he is.”

Jeremy laughed quietly, he rubbed his face and nodded. “Maybe.”

“Have you tried talking to him?” James asked, giving his arm a squeeze.

“I called a few times. Every time Francie picks up, I ask her to talk to Fin. Then there is suspicious moment of silence and muffled voices and I get told that he's busy with homework. Or has to leave for training.” Jeremy sighed. “I think I should give up on that ...”

“No,” James muttered softly. He took a step closer, looking into Jeremy's eyes. He waited for approval and after a moment he found a slight sparkle in them. He tipped his head and kissed him softly.

“There is no point in guessing what made him react like that,” Jeremy muttered as James pulled back. “But I'm not giving this up because he's a childish … child.”

This time it was James' turn to laugh. “He'll come around.” At least he hoped so. It would kill Jeremy if he wouldn't.

In reply Jeremy just nodded weakly. They looked at each other for a few moments. Wondering if there was anything left to say.

“Can you look at my bum scratch again?” Jeremy asked casually.

James nodded and motioned for him to turn around.

“Like I said yesterday, that's what you have a partner for: to look at embarrassing wounds,” Jeremy muttered as he felt James' finger brush his skin slightly.

“It looks good,” he replied. Gently he wrapped his arm around Jeremy's hip as he stepped closer. Hugging him from behind. Jeremy was leaning into the touch, letting his head roll back. The water falling down their bodies.

With a soft kiss on his cheek James muttered. “He'll come around.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm well aware that by way Jeremy describes his sexuality it would be pansexual. However, I am in doubt if he'd know that.


	33. Apple

Waking up sleep drunken the first thing James noticed was of course Jeremy Clarkson, who was loosely holding onto him. Jeremy's head was pressed against his chest as was the rest of his body. James had one arm wrapped around him and he was glad to notice that the stiffness in Jeremy's back had lessened. He had just needed a good night's sleep.

Normally, James would say he hated cuddling, most of all when he was the big spoon. At least he had done so for so long. He didn't mind falling asleep next to someone. He didn't mind when there was some cuddling after sex and they'd move apart later on. Or when he would wake up next to someone who was stuck to his side after most of the night had been spent apart.

When it came to him being the small spoon, he had softened … he liked Jeremy's arms around him. He liked that he asked if he was comfortable. Somehow in the morning he still woke up in Jeremy's arms … it felt nice. In the end he had to admit that he liked being cuddled by Jeremy Clarkson.

However, being the one who started the cuddling … he hated it. Usually. Still, last night they had come to Jeremy's house. Jeremy had offered for James to stay over since both were knackered and exhausted. Tomorrow they'd drive to the track, so nobody would really notice that the Volvo and the Golf had parked next to each other. When James had crawled into bed, with Jeremy having his back turned trying desperately to get some sleep, James couldn't help it. He had known that Jeremy wouldn't try to get close to him, not when he was this exhausted. Instead, James had found himself reaching out for Jeremy. At first, he had rested his hand between Jeremy's shoulder blades and he had never felt his back being so taut. Then he wrapped one arm around Jeremy's hip, offering the other as a pillow and had just spooned up. With each steady breath that Jeremy took he could feel the muscles in his back relaxing. The weird thing was that not only didn't he not mind the contact, but he got the feeling that he rather liked it.

James kissed the top of Jeremy's head, in response he felt Jeremy moved even closer. Then Jeremy's eyes slowly opened, he blinked, trying to take in his surrounding, and looked up at James.

“Morning,” he muttered and James bent down to kiss him on the lips.

“Morning. You feeling better?”

“Yes.” Jeremy nodded. “Thank you.”

It didn't take long until one of the dogs picked up on the voices and jumped up into bed with them.

After they have been fed, Jeremy had enlisted James to take the leash. They had ordered them into the Range Rover and arrived a couple of minutes later on a field. After being let out again they watched the dogs carefully. When off a leash it was always important that they didn't do anything stupid: pursue lady/boy dogs, run after rabbits or sheep. Then again, they were very obedient. Most of the time.

“Jeremy ...” James began carefully as he let the last dog off the leash.

“Hmm?” Then Jeremy looked at the dog pointing at the field. “Go.” It ran away happily following its buddies.

“We've been together for a while now.” James wasn't really sure how to approach this topic. The last time he had had to, Sarah had done the deed.

“Yes.” Jeremy went through a plastic bag and handed an apple over to James. Jeremy sat down at the tailgate of the Range Rover, enjoying his own apple.

“Thanks,” James muttered as he took it and took a bite, feeling his stomach demand food. Then he tried to pick up where he had left off. “And I mean … we've been having sex too.”

“Where are you going with this?” Jeremy asked carefully, tensing up a bit.

“I'm just thinking that it might be a good idea to get tested.” James cleared his throat. “To ditch the condoms and so.”

Jeremy nodded slowly. “I hate sex with condoms.” Then he shook his head, relaxed again. “No, it's a good idea. I've got my test back a few days ago.”

James faced Jeremy. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“Why … You took it without telling me.” Not that James was hurt. At least he wouldn't admit to it. But he had thought that Jeremy would tell him when he'd take that step.

“Well, yes.” Jeremy just shrugged his shoulders. “Like you said we've been together for a while now. I wasn't really worried, as I only had sex with one girl between you and Francie. Admittedly Francie may or may not have had sex with two people at the same time, but I'd rather not think too much about that. Got the result back two days ago. Just haven't found the time to tell you.”

They had been busy filming bits and pieces for their youth car challenge. Other than for work they hadn't seen each other. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, 100%. Not the slightest sign of sexual transmitted diseases or similar,” he stated proudly.

“Good,” James muttered. “I can get tested on, I think, Friday.”

“Right. Do you want me to go with you?” he asked carefully.

“No, thanks.” A weak smile formed on his lips. “That was already awkward enough years ago.”

“That was different.”

“I know,” James muttered quietly. “I am not ungrateful that you did.”

Jeremy smiled weakly and nodded. He knew that of course. For a moment he watched the field trying to spot his dogs. After finishing his apple he pushed off the tail gate and motioned for James to follow him.

“Jeremy, can I ask something of you?” James asked carefully after a few meters.

“Sure.”

“You know stuff about me that I wouldn't want anyone to know, if I'm honest,” James began, watching his feet. “Can we never mentioned that ever again?”

Jeremy nodded. “Under one, well two, conditions.”

“Right?”

“One, if you want to talk about it, for whatever reason, you can. Clear?”

“Yes.”

“If that arsehole comes anywhere near you, even if he just looks at you, you tell me and I shall throw him out of window,” Jeremy spoke calmly.

“Understood.” James smiled weakly. Then Jeremy called one his dogs. A bush began to rustle and he trod happily towards them. “Why out of a window?”

Jeremy turned to him and shrugged his shoulders. “If I had had a partner who had beaten me up, what would you do?”

“Throw them out of a window,” James stated without thinking about it. “Damn,” he added.

“I'm actually very proud of you that you ...” Jeremy cleared his throat, as if to keep his emotions in check. “... that you managed to deal with that so well.”

James shrugged his shoulders. “Thank you,” he muttered quietly, so very quietly. “I mean … I thought it'd leave a scar or anything, but it didn't. Maybe because I never loved him. So that was that.”

“Still.”

James looked up at him biting his lip, not knowing what to add to that. If Jeremy would do the same, it'd cut very deep. However, he didn't dare say that. It would only open a road that neither of them was ready to go yet.

“So, Friday you said?” Jeremy changed the topic and James knew that their deal would start form that moment on.

“Yes, Friday. Should be done quickly. A week or two until we get the answer,” James said casually before they called back the other two dogs.

“You worried?”

“Nope.”

 


	34. Goal

Jeremy was nervously pacing up and down his office. The iPhone was held to his ear, waiting for a response. He heard the muffled voices on the other line, but couldn't understand any of it.

James watched him as he passed the office. He knew who Jeremy was talking to, or rather who he was trying to talk to. When James came back with two cups of coffee instead of one he noticed that the pacing had stopped. Jeremy didn't look happy, his shoulders were sagged and he let out a breath when he hung up.

“Nothing?” James asked as he entered the office.

Jeremy shook his head. “No luck.” With a sigh he leaned against the edge of his desk. “What's that?”

“Hmm?” Jeremy pointed at the cups in his hand. “Coffee, I thought you could need some.”

A smile formed on Clarkson's face as he took one of the cups. “I guess this is part of the couple routine.”

“Might be.” James smirked. “Especially after last night.”

For a moment May saw a wonderful blush on Jeremy's cheeks. Clarkson cleared his throat and took a sip. James almost dreaded to enquire after the results of the call. After all James knew, he had tried talking to his son again. And was denied.

James simply leaned against the table and didn't ask. Might be better this way. If Clarkson wanted to talk about it he would. Most likely under the shower again. Just that this time James wouldn't need to check a self-inflicted scratch on his bum.

“I always knew that if your tongue isn't talented nobody's is. That was very nice,” James told him instead. Jeremy laughed and nudged James' side.

“Thank you.” James wasn't sure for what he was thanking him.

 

* * *

 

The next time he saw Jeremy pace like that the whole crew had been in France. They were seated at the bar, and the soft ringtone had cut through the conversation.

“Sorry,” he muttered and fished the phone out of his pocket. He looked at the screen for a while, as if frozen.

“Pick up, man,” James urged him.

“Yes, I'll just ...” he didn't explain further and left the room. James knew that it must have been Francie, Jeremy always looked at the phone in a certain way if it was her.

Instead of worrying too much about him, he simply sipped his beer and continued with his conversation. They were contemplating how stupid they could make each other look tomorrow. They loved RWD cars. However, they had to admit that on snow they were a little rubbish, but if they did that on camera, it wouldn't fit their _Top Gear_ persona _._ It was just a fact that RWD cars were the most fun.

After they had loosely scripted everything and had come up with the idea to also dump a piano on James' back-up car, they had called it a night. It was only then that he noticed that Jeremy hadn't come back. When he walked through the lobby he turned to the attendant. “Erm … hi. As tu vu mon ami? The slightly fat one?”

The attendance told him that he had gone outside an hour ago.

“Mercí. Thank you.” James walked outside, unafraid of the cold.

Soon he found Jeremy pacing along the side of the hotel. He was holding his phone to his ear and had his other hand hidden under his armpit in an effort to keep warm.

“All right. Yes,” he talked into the phone. James cleared his throat and Jeremy turned around. He looked cold enough, James had concluded. Though a smile was frozen onto his face. “Thank you. Really thank you, Francie.” Then he hung up.

“Good?” James simply asked.

“Very.” Jeremy smiled brightly. “Oh, I could kiss you!”

A quiet laugh escaped James. “Do so.”

He nodded, and Jeremy took a step towards James. He cupped his face, and a shiver ran through James as he felt his cold fingers. However, Jeremy's lips where wonderfully warm and he kissed him so happily.

“Come on, you need a warm shower,” James huffed as they parted.

“Mmmh.” Jeremy took a step back and clenched his fists, as if it was the first time he noticed the cold.

“Want to tell me about it?” James asked as they walked through the hotel.

“Finlo is coming over for the weekend.” He was all smiles.

“That's wonderful.”

 


	35. School

They were watching television. Some overly dynamic bloke running around the city, punching a few baddies and then running away before the police could figure out who he was. Finlo was sitting on the sofa, engrossed in this rather shallow plot line. Meanwhile, Jeremy was sitting next to him. One leg tucked in under him, wondering how he could look natural. He wanted to talk so badly about James. About his reaction. He knew better than to approach the topic. Finlo couldn't be rushed, much like Jeremy, he would have to patient and wait until Finlo wanted to talk. The problem was, Jeremy wasn't a very patient man.

Instead he went into the kitchen to get some crisps. He also sneaked a look onto his phone; he saw an unread message by James. As quickly as he could he texted him back.

_Going okay, watching telly. Will keep you updated._

Then he sat back down on the sofa, enjoying the crisps more than the television. If only he could stop being so nervous. Finlo was his son! He loved Jeremy! At least he thought … no! He did!

“Dad?” Finlo began. Jeremy nodded, trying not to put his bag of crisps away at once. Maybe he just wanted some too. “Can I talk about you and James for a moment?”

This time Jeremy put his bag of crisps down. “Depends.”

“On?”

“Will you tell me to fuck myself again?”

Finlo's voice had gone quiet and he shook his head. “No.”

“Will you lock yourself in your room again?”

“No.”

Jeremy took a breath. “Should I call your mother now, so you won't have to wait so long?”

Finlo's shoulders sagged. “No,” he muttered quietly. “I deserve that, didn't I?”

“A little,” Jeremy muttered.

“Do you hate me for what I did?” Finlo asked carefully.

“No,” he replied promptly. His voice had gone more soft, he couldn't hate him. “How could I? No matter what you did.”

“Why?”

“You are my son,” Jeremy explained simply. “I couldn't hate you, even if I tried.”

Finlo nodded weakly, he stayed quiet for a moment. As if he was thinking about what to say next. “I was just scared,” he offered weakly. “With you and James.”

“Okay.”

“I … I feared what all my friends would say.” Finlo bit his lip. “I mean, they're really good friends. Honestly. I'd never actually be friends with a downright bully, I don't think. But non of them have any gay parents.”

“Finlo,” Jeremy began. “I won't tell you to get better friends. But I have told you that neither James nor I are planning on making this public. Which means unless you tell them they won't know.”

“I know ...”

“If you're worried about the yellow-press, I know, we have thought about that. But they barely got a whiff of my and Fra--- your mother's divorce,” he simply went on. “We're keeping it private, because it is our private life. As simple as that.”

Finlo looked up at him and nodded. “They'd just make fun of me from time to time,” he began. “The same way Richard makes fun of you. But I just don't want them to make fun of that.”

“All right.” Jeremy was smart enough to stop doing that if asked. After all they also didn't make fun of Richard's accident. Then again they were grown men, and Finlo and his friends were far away from being grown up. They'd just tease him more relentlessly. Especially if they'd notice that Finlo wasn't at ease with this just yet.

“You said you're not actually gay despite going out with James,” Finlo mumbled. If Jeremy looked closely he could see a blush on his face. How awkward to talk to your father about sexualities …

“Yes, it's called bisexuality.”

“That means you like men and women?”

“Yup.”

“Like Emily actually.”

Jeremy smiled weakly. He had talked to her about this. Somehow he was touched, at least it meant that he was trying to understand. “Yes. Like that.”

“That just … confused me at first,” Finlo admitted awkwardly. “I mean you were together with Mum for so long and before that you were also married to another woman. I just thought you didn't like men.”

“Fin, there is a difference between being attracted to people and actually following up on that,” Jeremy explained. “You'll realize that later.”

“Okay.”

“And always ask for consent,” Jeremy added quickly.

“All right,” Finlo nodded slowly. “I just … needed some time to understand that.”

“I get that,” Jeremy muttered.

“Didn't you know until James that you were … bi?”

Jeremy shook his head. “No, I always knew that,” he replied honestly.

“I like James,” Finlo simply said.

“Good,” Jeremy agreed. “I do too. Most of the time.”

Finlo laughed quietly and shook his head.

“So, can I expect you back in two weeks?” Jeremy asked carefully.

“Yup.”

 


	36. Treat

It was a typical weekend in the Clarkson home, he had all his children at home, they were running wild. When Finlo thought it would be a good idea to pull at Katya's hair there was shouting. This was the reason why, for now, James didn't stay over night when he had all three of them. While yes, May would be useful in some situations, there wasn't really much they could do couple-wise.

It was a weekend full of parenting. While Emily was easy to handle, Finlo and Katya sadly weren't. Barely two years apart, they ran around the house, scratching their knees, shouting, falling down the stairs and very rarely managing to play quietly on the play station. Generally, he was awfully exhausted. James had always been happy with that deal, maybe later on when their relationship was more settled he could join in on a weekend full of shouting and kid handling. However, there was also Finlo himself, who hadn't reacted too well to their relationship but was now settling. Nevertheless, May was – if the kids allowed it – able to come with them on family trips, to an amusement park. That was okay and fine because due to reasons Clarkson never understood, they behaved there. But when it came to their own swing set, Katya insisted on pushing Finlo off of it.

“It's a handful,” Jeremy finished telling the tale of his weekend with the kids.

“Can't imagine,” James replied as he took the beer he had been offered. “Thank you.”

Also part of the Clarkson-got-all-of-his-kids-on-the-weekend routine was that on the night of the Sunday after they had been picked up or dropped off, James would come over.

They had settled on the sofa, turned to some show on ITV and comfortably sipped beer. “You know what I miss the most?” Jeremy asked after a while.

James shook his head. His brain supplied various replies, some serious, some not so much. “A vagina?”

“Surprisingly no,” Jeremy replied in good humour. “In all seriousness, you know on a Sunday my family would have gotten together and they would have watched their daddy on television.”

James smiled sadly, he just nodded. “Well, we're supposed to air in July again, maybe you can get them over the weekdays as well.”

Jeremy shrugged his shoulders and scratched the top of his head. Even when they were only doing studio shoots there was a lot to do besides the one day in Guildford.

“Maybe,” Jeremy just replied. Then he let out a breath. He leaned against James and rested his head on his shoulder.

“Come here you softy,” James muttered and wrapped an arm around the other man.

“Mmh, am a big softy.”

They were watching a reality show, which for them meant making fun of everything. Then one of the people on the television had shouted loudly through a public space that _she'd only take it up the arse, if he did!_ This had of course caused laughter, but it had also left a slight flush on Jeremy's face.

While James hadn't had any problems with being on the receiving end of their love making, Jeremy on the other hand never tried it. They had been having sex for a while and James hadn't pushed. After all, he knew that Jeremy was seemingly reluctant about reversing the roles. That had been the only thing he had been reluctant about. He was perfectly fine with both receiving and giving blow jobs and putting his tongue to good use on James, rimming him delicately and slowly.

“James ...” Jeremy began softly when the show had finished. They were about to move to the upper floor.

“What is it?” James asked as he collected the beer bottles, placing them into the sink.

Jeremy stood in the middle of the living room, his hands wandering nervously inside the pocket of his jeans. “About that … thing.”

“Thing?”

“Well, that sex thing.” James stood in the kitchen frowning at him. “Well, I mean our sex, I mean are you fine with … only being fucked.”

James let out a laugh, he had thought he knew where this was going. He stepped closer towards Clarkson until he stood inside his personal space. It wasn't threatening, he took Jeremy's hands and gave them a slight squeeze.

 _How could a man be so direct about the concept of having sex but be so shy when it came to his own sex life?_ James wondered. “Of course I am, I wouldn't have agreed to it if that wasn't the case,” he stated clearly.

“Even if ...” Jeremy cleared his throat. “If I'm not the one ---”

“Being fucked?” James completed the sentence for him. Jeremy only nodded as a reply, biting his lips. “Yeah, sure. I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do.”

The taller man smiled weakly, so James gently tucked on his arms to pull him closer.

“Maybe at some point,” Jeremy stated quietly. James just nodded. “But currently, I don't really feel --”

“I know, that's fine. Never had a problem with it.” Maybe for the first time since the beginning of their conversation Jeremy looked at him directly. James saw a wonderful shyness in his eyes and kissed him briefly.

“That doesn't mean that I don't ...” There Jeremy stopped, fumbling for the right words. After all neither of them had used the word “love” yet. Even thought it seemed clear to both of them, they were careful of its use. “... that I don't care any less about you.”

“God no. Never think that,” James reassured him. He knew where that fear was coming from. Towards the end many things between Jeremy and Francie had been missing; the fact that Jeremy mostly stayed in London, that they hadn't told each other that they loved each other anymore (mostly because they didn't), but the sex was also left out. So when the realization had hit that love had run out, they had suddenly become aware of all of those things.

“Listen, we just like having sex,” James began. “But we'd be perfectly fine without it too. You know that, it's not something our relationship is based on. Please don't feel pressured in any way.”

Jeremy smiled and nodded in agreement. He liked that. “Okay.”

“And you not wanting to take it up the arse, doesn't change our feelings.”

“No.”

“No,” James reassured him.

“Even if I never ...”

“Then that's fine too.” James kissed him again, and this time the other man responded. It was a soft and slow kiss.

“I can always give you a treat differently,” Jeremy muttered against his lips.

“You know that I like that.” James smiled. However, tonight wasn't the right time and both of them knew that when they moved to the bedroom.

The next morning, when Jeremy had settled between James' legs and taking him in his mouth he made him shout his name out loud. James was always amazed that Jeremy learned such things so quickly. Jeremy would always be amazed by noise he could force out of James.

Even so, it was still a surprise that, while in real life Jeremy was the loud one and James the quiet one, in the bedroom the roles were reversed. Not that Jeremy minded.

 


	37. Secret

Jeremy was sipping his last coffee of the day in the small office kitchen. The office was slowly emptying, people were packing and a few worked overtime so that they'd save time to get a day off. Jeremy had done the same. Tuesday was a bank holiday and Monday a normal working day. He had been able to talk Francie into giving him the kids until Tuesday. Monday was now planned with going to a fair.

“What are you smiling about?” Jeremy briefly felt James' hand on his shoulder.

“Hmm?” He turned around. “Oh, erm just about Monday.”

“Did you get the children?”

“Yes.” Jeremy smiled all over of his face. It had been a while, especially with Finlo it had been tricky. Luckily things were smoothing out.

“Good.” James reached behind Jeremy, also wanting to get a cup of coffee. Quickly Clarkson moved aside.

“What are you planning for the day off?”

James shrugged his shoulders. “Might ride about with Hammond.”

“But not on Hammond,” Jeremy teased him a bit.

“Understood.” Sometimes James wondered if Jeremy was possessive. He could understand it a little, after all both wives had left him for someone else. However, James didn't plan on doing that. So far Jeremy had never stopped him from making plans with friends. “Are you free tonight?”

Jeremy looked up and handed James the cup of coffee when the machine beeped. “Generally, yes.”

James took a step towards the other man. “Do you want to do something?”

“Gay stuff?”

“Might be.”

“Generally, yes.”

James had a wicked smile on his face. “Good.”

Before he was able to take another step towards Jeremy, he heard Wilman and Hammond walk into the little kitchen. They were fighting over some car, wondering if it was deserved to appearing on the show. James had almost jumped back, instead he chose just to be where he was. A little too close to Clarkson.

“Hammond, the Renault is too shit. It doesn't even have windows!” Jeremy cut in as they entered the room.

“It is not! You're just too fat to fit into the seats,” Richard shot back. Wilman was caught laughing as he went past the boys to make himself a cup of coffee as well.

“See, you have to go down on a personal level, that means you can't argue decently,” Clarkson just stated.

“What do you expect of such a small man? He is made out of 80% anger and hatred,” James added.

“Funny,” Richard replied while the other men were laughing. “Funny. Do you two want to join me and Wilman at the pub after office?” he asked when the room got quieter.

“Eeeh.” Jeremy looked at James. He wasn't sure, he would love to. However, if James didn't want to …

“Sure,” James replied for both of them and shrugged his shoulders.

 

* * *

  
  


Jeremy was squeezing himself through the crowd. He just wanted to reach their table without knocking anything or anyone over. At first, he had looked forward to going to the pub with the team. Then it became too crowded and too many people who were far too drunk had entered the pub. These were thrown out with too much of a fuss, which had left Jeremy just wishing that he'd be with James in Hammersmith and doing _gay stuff._ Instead he was navigating his way through the crowd with their second round.

“Fucking hell,” he cursed as he reached the table. James quickly helped him by taking the beer out of his hands. He handed the bitter over to Wilman and Richard. Jeremy placed the brown beer in front of James and sat down next to him. Gingerly he began to drink his Rosé.

Halfway through his second glass of wine, he began to relax and stopped caring about the people around them. They were seated comfortably in a little niche and it wasn't so bad any longer. Under the table, he could feel James' thigh touching his. He smiled to himself when their discussion picked up where it had left off.

When Hammond came around with their third round, James was already leaning slightly against Jeremy, under the table his hand was resting on Jeremy's thigh. Jeremy became bold enough to simply hold it with his free hand. In response he felt a slight squeeze. James looked up and was quick to answer the question that was written on his partner's face. He nodded and Jeremy felt another squeeze.

“It's very cool, Andy. You're just stupid!” Richard shouted, more drunk than his colleagues who sported more weight.

“Richard, you're hopeless.” Andy shook his head.

“Now?” Jeremy asked James, after all these two seemed very busy fighting over whether something they didn't pay any attention to was cool or not.

“Yeah,” James just replied.

“Chaps,” Clarkson began. Suddenly the word seemed to be out of place. However, it caught their attention, but it was the wrong kind of attention.

“Jeremy, you know nothing about bikes. Not your argument!” Richard responded too quickly.

A small knot tightened in Jeremy's stomach. Angry and short, was fitting. But he wouldn't be angry because of their relationship … Jeremy hoped. _Of course not!_

“It's not about that,” James explained; again Jeremy felt him give his hand a slight squeeze.

“Oh?” both men piped up. At first Jeremy was trying to find the right words. Wondering if there was even a right way to explain to them that he was together with James. How would he usually go about this if James was a woman? _Oh I'm dating this person._ That idea sort of let an elephant in the room. Two in fact: James was a man and they worked together.

“Erm … it's about … erm” Jeremy stumbled. He didn't want to keep this a secret from his friends. However, he also seemed to lack the words. They wouldn't hate him, would they? They were friends and that was important. Helplessly he looked at his lap, seeing their joined hands. “Erm … James and I, we're sort of a couple.”

“Sort of?” Richard asked.

“We are,” James corrected and tightly squeezed Jeremy's hand. He couldn't ask more of him.

“See, I knew it!” Andy boasted to their surprise.

“You couldn't have known. It was a lucky guess,” Richard defended.

“You still owe me a tenner.” The short and angry man let out a sigh and began to pull a few notes out of his pocket.

“Wait a moment,” Jeremy cut in between, pretty confused by what was going on. “You had bets running if we were together?”

For a moment they sat frozen. “Eeeh …. yes?”

“Andy only won because I was convinced of your heterosexuality,” Richard explained as he handed over the money. Jeremy looked helplessly at James, who was laughing and shook his head. He also had no idea what was going on.

“I told you, he wouldn't care.” Wilman began to count the money.

“Yeah, he said so when he was drunk,” James explained and shrugged his shoulders. Then he leaned against Jeremy again.

“I have an advantage, had to go to school with him.”

At that comment Jeremy showed him his middle finger. “One time!”

“Can you imagine how awful it was to be kissed by him?”

“Yeah, I sort of can,” James replied quietly, he took a sip of his beer. “Horrible.”

Soon they were laughing and picked up their prior topic. Under the table, James always kept his hand in Jeremy's.

 

* * *

 

“What did he mean by _being kissed by you_?” James slurred as they were making their way towards the curb. Jeremy slung his arm around James' shoulder, and was helping him walk. However, neither man was sober enough to drive, they'd take a cab and pick up the cars from the BBC's garage the next morning. They were usually safe there.

“Oh, that. I might have kissed him once. In school. When I was 18,” Jeremy explained, shifting his weight uncomfortably.

“Why?” James lifted his hand, trying to hail a cab for them.

“I don't know. I just wanted to see if I still could.”

James frowned slightly, that practise seemed to be familiar. He was thinking back to that time that Jeremy had kissed him just to show James that he still could be with men.

“I didn't have any feelings for him. And unlike me, Andy is actually straight.”

“Was he mad?”

“No,” Jeremy explained quickly. “He understood why I did it.”

“Hmm.” Finally a cab pulled over. There was another question looming in the back of James' head. But they were too drunk and he was sure that Jeremy wouldn't want to answer it anyway. He'd forget about it soon enough. “My place?”

“Yes.”

While Jeremy and James were climbing into the cab Andy and Richard were setting up their new poll of when these two men had gotten together.

 


	38. Train

James was waiting by the bar. It couldn't be long until Jeremy would arrive on the steam train. According to a little app he had, the train was on time. However, they were talking about Jeremy after all, he would most likely take 20 minutes to walk a 7-minute-route.

Then again, when presented with winning he didn't play around and pushed. _Poor man,_ James thought in a weak moment while hiding a smirk. Jeremy would be utterly exhausted. From the brief conversation they had had James knew that Jeremy had only shovelled coal. Originally, James had wanted to go on the train, but faced with the prospect of shovelling coal he was glad that he had gotten the old Jaguar.

Just as he was about to take another sip from his beer he heard the heavy footsteps. There were many, in fact, more than there would be from a group. Furthermore, someone was breathing quite heavily. It was then that he realized that one of his colleagues had arrived. Carefully James took a peek around the pillar he had been hiding behind.

Clarkson; he saw him trotting heavily towards the bar. A small part in him felt sorry for the man, he looked utterly exhausted, and didn't even come first. However, seeing his face all black with coal dust just looked funnier than his empathy lasted.

“You have permission to say 'oh cock'” he managed to say right before bursting out laughing. Jeremy really looked ridiculous.

“You shouldn't ---” The other man had to take a breath. His voice was strained, James realized. “You shouldn't laugh at a man who's covered ...”

He didn't even manage more until his legs gave out, and tumbled to the floor. “A noble second,” he mumbled, closing his eyes and trying to catch his breath.

James shook his head, a stupid smile still on his face. Shaking his head he turned to the barkeeper, ordering a good one. Jeremy was still trying to catch his breath when James towered over him. Beer in hand he gently tugged at his uniform, pulling him in a sitting position. “Jeremy,” he began, his voice more dramatic than it needed to be and a smile playing on his lips. “Speak to me.”

Carefully he held the glass to Jeremy's mouth, the man was like a wet sandbag. James realized that this must have been horrible for him. He let Jeremy take a few sips - if you could even call it that … Then he helped him lean against the pillar to catch his breath. James realized that they had to cut that bit later on. All Jeremy did was lean against the wall holding the glass of beer in his hand and trying to catch his breath. Meanwhile James leaned against the bar wondering whether he could do anything that wouldn't be inappropriate in front of the camera. The problem was, he wouldn't even know what to do if the camera wasn't there.

“Never wanna see another steamtrain,” he heard Clarkson's hoarse voice and watching him take another sip. Half of it landed on his shirt, but at least he was getting better. The breathing was still heavy. “Well done mate.”

James smiled at him shaking his head, he couldn't believe this man. And he didn't really know why he couldn't wipe that stupid grin off his face.

Jeremy offered him his hand while he went on. “You did well, you did very well because that car actually ---” James took it, there was no squeeze and no shake, and the contact was very brief. Then James pulled back, Jeremy let his hand drop, and more of a joke he wiped the hand on jump suit.

“That was man-contact,” Jeremy stated and James quietly agreed with him.

“Hmm.”

“Have you heard from Hammond?”

James shrugged his shoulders, they hadn't heard from Hammond. After all he was on a motorbike, however, they were able to contact the camera car. Soon the camera was cut, they weren't getting much more out of them. James used the privacy they were given when the cameramen started to pack their stuff away.

Jeremy was still leaning against the pillar and sipping his beer. James sat down next to him and looked at him. He still smiled like an idiot. “You look like shit.”

Jeremy let out a laugh and shook his head. “Have you got fags?” Jeremy asked.

“Yeah,” James replied. “Come on.”

James patted his shoulder and got up, realizing belatedly that Jeremy seemed to be unable to get up as well. He looked helplessly up at him, and James smiled weakly and offered him his hand again. Jeremy took it and pulled himself up. Only then did he notice the smug smile on his face.

“Idiot,” James muttered and Jeremy in return gave his hand a squeeze.

“Always.”

 


	39. Railroad

Jeremy sat on the stairs just outside the hotel, smoking. James paced the pavement in front of it while he rambled on about the old Jaguar. He was so engrossed in that car that he barely noticed that Jeremy wasn't paying attention. Jeremy just wanted to crawl into a warm bed and wash the coal off his face. However, the fag had been far more important.

“James,” Clarkson stopped him mid-sentence. “Please, stop talking.”

“Well, thank you.” James let out an over-dramatic sigh. “I give you some fags and that's how you pay me.”

“If you're such a fag yourself,” Jeremy mumbled under his breath and got up.

“That was low,” James replied, wincing as he heard the disgusting groan that was coming from Jeremy. “Especially since you're also a fag.”

A weak smile formed on the other man's face, he stepped on the remains of his cigarette. James shook his head.

“You don't happen to know if we have a room?” Jeremy asked and pointed at himself. He was still wearing that dreadful train service outfit, which looked only half as bad. His face was even worse, he hadn't really managed to get rid of the coal dust. James had gotten used to it, or at least he wasn't tempted to laugh at him any longer.

“Eh, no, not for us.” James shrugged his shoulders. “But as the whole of _Top Gear_ crew, yes, one. You can shower there.”

“Good,” Jeremy took the steps back inside. He took them very slowly. “Don't want to stay here, anyway.”

James followed him, wondering for a moment whether he should help him walk. Offer him a shoulder, but then his clothes would be all dirty and he didn't have any clean ones here. Furthermore there were people, and they weren't that comfortable yet. It was bad enough that someone had taken a photo of them while smoking.

“You do know that we can't drive back in the Jag?” They entered the room and met a few crewmen who were ready to go back home.

“What?” Then Jeremy pointed at the only other door. “Is it free?”

“The car is going back to its owner. Someone already drove it off, the train is the only option,” James stated as the cameraman explained that the bathroom was free at the moment.

Jeremy let out a sigh and turned towards James. “I hate trains.”

In reply James just gave him a look.

“All right, steam trains,” he corrected. “What about the Hamster?”

“We already called him, and he's on his way back to Birmingham,” the director informed them.

“Didn't even make it, how is that for a victory for the motorcycle?” A smug smile formed on Jeremy's face, he opened the bathroom door and pointed at James. “Make sure it's no steam train! I meet you at the station. Half an hour?”

That was agreed. It didn't raise any eyebrows that they'd be using the same train home. After all, both men wanted to go to London, why shouldn't they do so together? So much was true … James wasn't even sure if Jeremy would be staying over.

 

* * *

 

 

A little over half an hour, James felt a warm hand on his shoulder. He turned around and saw Jeremy; clean-faced, and in a pair of jeans and a sweater. “Hey.”

“Hey.” James smiled softly.

“Is it a steam train?”

“No. Come on. It'll depart in 15 minutes.” James walked off and Jeremy followed. The man was most likely too exhausted to argue about him being too early for everything. However, they were lucky, the train was already in the station just waiting for the clock to strike half past. They took their seats; Jeremy hogging the one next to the window.

The first thing he did was let out a breath and close his eyes. “Aahh.”

James stored their bags in the overhead compartment and sat down next to him. “Normally I'm the one who draws those noises out of you.”

Sleepily Jeremy looked at him just shaking his head. He was too exhausted to reply.

The first part of the journey was spent in silence. James had simply listened to music on his iPod. However, soon Jeremy couldn't stand this any longer and began to talk over the music. So he had unplugged the thing.

James listened as Jeremy complained about shovelling coal, and that they would be back home long after the sun had settled. “Hopefully it will look good on telly,” Jeremy went on. James knew that complaining helped him. “I didn't rip every muscle for a crap clip,” and ended his tirade with a big sigh.

It soon went back to the iPod, James had looked between Jeremy's silhouette, watching the steadily darkening scenery, and his own iPod. He offered Jeremy an earplug. With a soft smile he nodded and listened with him. The only sound that passed between them was the music. At some point James had dozed off.

He woke up an hour later, finding himself slumped against Jeremy's shoulder. Jeremy didn't look much more comfortable. His head was leaning against the glass, mouth slightly open and soft snores escaping him. James couldn't help but smile, he let him sleep. Gently James moved his jacket between Jeremy and the glass, while he received small protesting noise from him. Luckily though, it didn't wake him up.

When the train rolled into London Bridge, James gently squeezed the other man's shoulder. “Come on, wake up,” he muttered; a sleepy little grunt was the response. “We're in London.”

He looked around and gently ran his hand through Jeremy's curls. “Jezza, wake up.”

Slowly Jeremy seemed to blink himself back into life. When he seemed to be back, James reached under his arms, helping him stand. Then he retrieved what little luggage they had. “I guess you want to stay with me?” he asked him.

A small nod was the reply as they exited the train. Together – more James' effort than Jeremy's – they made it to the tube station, since they couldn't find a taxi. During the ride, the poor man had fallen asleep again, slumping against James' shoulder. James had let him, he just couldn't stay awake any longer.

In Hammersmith they had walked to James' house, the cold air keeping Jeremy reasonably awake … as soon as they had somehow managed the stairs Jeremy had fallen into bed and couldn't be woken up.

 


	40. Ink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ends up in smut.

“What the fuck?” James muttered quietly. He looked behind and then back on what he held in his hand. That was new, he was sure. For a brief moment he wondered if maybe he should ask Clarkson about it. After all he was in his house and he had sort of stumbled over it. Maybe he had never intended for James to find it. However, it hadn't been hidden very well, just in the cupboard that Jeremy tended to call 'the cupboard of shit'. Well, if it was in there, maybe it was a joke present …

“What's taking you so long?” He heard the taller man's voice from the other room.

James jumped in response and turned around. “Nothing, I just … erm … I just found something.” Quickly he stuffed the item back into the cupboard of shit and grabbed the bottle opener he had actually intending to find.

“If it's about the lesbian porn ...” James heard the mocking tone and just rolled his eyes as he went back into the living room.

“No,” James mumbled, he shouldn't, should he? But then again there was hardly a thing that they didn't talk about. He sat back down next to Jeremy and drank from his beer. “Actually it was quite the opposite.”

Maybe that would be enough of a hint.

“Oh god.” Jeremy looked at James, eyes wide and a small hint of fear. He looked like a twelve-year-old whose father had just stumbled over his porn. Which was basically what James had done. Not to mention, gay porn. “You're joking.”

James just shook his head.

“Oh god.” Jeremy bit his lip and James found an embarrassed flush on the Jeremy's face.

“Relax. I'm not angry. I just wasn't aware that you'd read ...”

“Stop it,” Jeremy hissed and stubbornly looked at the television instead.

James' face softened and he nodded. He had almost forgotten that Jeremy was shy when it came to details of his own sex life. Yeah, he could make endless jokes about where he'd had sex and what would be great, but in the end it could always be played off as a joke. This … was different.

“Where is it?” Jeremy asked after a few minutes of silence.

James looked away from the telly, seeing that he was still keen on avoiding eye-contact. “In your cupboard of shit.”

“Right, I meant to throw it away anyway,” he explained, briefly looking at James.

“Didn't you like it?” James asked before he was able to think any better of it.

“No, I did. But that's ...” Jeremy caught himself before he went on. “Stop it.”

“All right, sorry.” Jeremy nodded in reply and sipped more beer. Maybe another time … However, there was still one question. “You're generally not a man given to porn, then why an erotic novel?”

Jeremy's shoulders sagged and let out a breath. “Can we not talk about this right now?”

The other man just nodded. “All right.” And this time he kept his curiosity to himself.

“It's not like I wanked while reading it,” Jeremy just explained quietly, eyes still glued to the television.

“I know. It wasn't suspiciously sticky and for a man who can't read the menu without glasses it must be a very hard task to wank while reading print.”

Luckily, that made Jeremy burst out laughing. He rested his head in one of his hands and shook his head. “You're such an arse.”

 

* * *

 

The next morning James padded bare-feet down the stairs, he was met with breakfast on the table. Some coffee, bread laid out, and eggs that were already boiled. He was only missing the man who had made all that: Jeremy. He was quickly located by a loud grunt from the outside.

Armed with a coffee in his hand, he looked outside the window and found Jeremy throwing the content of a drawer into the bin. Most likely his cupboard of shit, James concluded since there was an empty slot where it should be. When he came back inside James looked at him and asked. “What was that all about?”

While Jeremy was putting the now empty drawer back into place he simply replied. “Told you I wanted to throw it away.”

“But the whole content?”

“Yeah, I do it every five years or so. Important things get saved and end up in the closet.”

James smiled and joined Jeremy at the kitchen table. “The closet of shit?”

“Basically,” Jeremy replied with a smile. “Also threw that book away, in case you were wondering.”

James looked up from his toast. They hadn't talked about his accidental find again. At least it was Jeremy who was picking up the topic.

“I wasn't,” James lied, he wouldn't have minded if he had kept it. “Like I said I wasn't angry that you read … that. Just surprised.”

“Yeah, whatever. I can hardly put it in the library.”

“True,” James simply replied, again he wasn't keen on pressing the topic. Not unless Clarkson wanted to. While he was able to claim that he had known Clarkson for years by now, he didn't know what was going on in his head at the moment.

Jeremy cleared his throat and set his cup down. “I was just curious.”

“About?” James asked.

“Well …” Again Jeremy bit his lip and took a breath. He was fumbling for words. A rare event. “Long story short: being fucked.”

For a brief moment James lacked air and looked at him in surprise. “Okay.” It had been over two months since the last time they had talked about that. Back then Jeremy had been reluctant about reversing the roles. James didn't mind and had vowed not to do anything that would make the other man uncomfortable in any way. However, it shouldn't really have come to as surprise that Jeremy would soon take an interest in it as well. Even if he took different routes than other people. “And the long story?”

Jeremy shifted in his seat a little bit and began to poke around in his egg. _The poor thing_ , luckily he stopped the torture and put the spoon aside. “You told me that I shouldn't feel pressured in any way. Once I truly believed that I started to relax, and … began to wonder about it. I got curious. I didn’t really need … theory. I did try porn, the one on the internet. That doesn't really work with normal porn, so it didn't work at all with gay porn and was quite ...”

“Intimidating?”

“Yeah, some scary stuff on there.” Jeremy pulled a face and James nodded at him reassuringly. He wasn't planning on making fun of that. “Anyway, so graphics wasn't working out for me. Then I found the written word.”

James found a small smile on his face. “Does it work?”

Jeremy considered the answer and swayed a little. “Partly. It's stimulating. I'll give you that. Besides the fact that it's not the height of literacy, I sort of lack … a connection.” He paused for a moment, wondering. “Does that makes sense?”

“Yeah.” James briefly wondered what he could do to reassure him that he did. So he reached across the table and awkwardly took Jeremy's hand in his. He gave it a slight squeeze. “But … erm … have you change your mind about – how to put this like a gentleman? - having me use your back door?”

This got the adequate response and Jeremy was laughing. It was one of those airy laughs where he laughed with all of his body. That was the best way to relax the other man. “Generally? Yes.”

James felt a surge of excitement. He had to admit that over the months he had thought about fucking Jeremy more than once. About having him lie under him, being inside of him, with his legs tightly wrapped around his body and drawing the best noises he already knew so well out of him. This didn't get much better when he would find him snoring in bed, his sweats slipped a bit too low, leaving James with a view of his backside and arse. However, he had never made a single move in that direction. It would have felt wrong, it would have been wrong. Jeremy wouldn't have liked it. And James wouldn't have enjoyed it as well. Now though …

“But?” James asked, treading carefully.

Jeremy paused, maybe he wasn't even fully aware what was holding him back. “I want … _that_ but it's just … I don't know anything about it. I mean about being in the other position. And that's really not something where I want to jump in head first.”

“Yeah, I understand. You use finger after finger.”

“You're such an arse.” Jeremy rolled his eyes and smiled widely at James.

 

* * *

 

The matter was approached step by step. The night prior Jeremy had found himself at the skilful hands of Mr. James May, being slowly and thoroughly rimmed by him had put Jeremy in a position where he had become undone quite quickly. James had been beaming with pride between Jeremy's legs.

 _But why did he have to think of this now!?_ Jeremy grunted as he sat in his office at the BBC. He was supposed to write a script for an upcoming piece on the show. Not think about what James' tongue had done the night before!

“Damn it,” he muttered and glued his eyes to the computer screen again. He looked up the specs of the newest Ford. The engine was good, and Fords were always well liked. At least by Clarkson and they had a new model of the Focus … that didn't look too bad. Ford was always ready to lend them a car to thrash about on the track. Then there was a new Renault. Maybe they could pitch them against each other.

Jeremy leaned back, happy with that idea. He was writing it onto a small piece of paper when he heard a knock on the door. _May,_ he knew before looking up. There was only one man who knocked this way. “What do you think of the Focus RS and Mégane R26.R?” he asked and looked up.

“One doesn't have proper windows and the other is too flashy,” James answered with a shrug as he stepped inside the office.

“Why did I even ask you?” Jeremy shook his head. “What do you need?”

“Erm … just giving you the folder you requested,” he stated and placed it on his desk.

Jeremy knew that something else was up. “Since when do you do that personally?”

James let out a sigh and couldn't help a shy smile forming. He grabbed a chair from the corner of the office and sat down at the other side of the desk. “Well, I wanted to smoothly ask if you want to spend the night with me in Hammersmith.”

“Did you?” Jeremy teased him a little.

“Yep.”

“Then do go on.” Jeremy leaned back in his chair and watched James shook his head.

“Idiot.”

“Smooth.” Both were laughing for a moment, then James cleared his throat.

“All right. Clarkson, you know that tomorrow we have to work in London again, and while I enjoy our time in Chipping Norton ...”

“So do I.”

“Yes.” There was a brief moment when his eyes seemed to sparkle, remembering the last night. “Well, I thought you could stay with me tonight.”

Jeremy shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, sure.” He intended to stay in London anyway, it didn't make much difference if he stayed with James. Which flat they used was rather random. Often it was the place of the one who asked first, unless Jeremy had one of his children around in London. “But you can do smoother than that.”

James had already gotten up. “I know,” he replied and turned away to walk out of his office. “Of course tonight in my house I can make you quiver and shout like last night.”

Jeremy watched him leave, feeling like a deer caught in the the headlights.

 _Oh dear_ , he thought. He'd need a lavatory soon if things kept going down this road. The whole time from breakfast until lunchtime he had almost managed to not think about that. Now … Jeremy swallowed hard. “Jesus,” he muttered, trying to turn his attention back to the screen.

It took some time until Jeremy managed to keep his mind from drifting back to what James could do with him. He was finally writing down differences and similarities between the Ford and the Renault. He might test them with Richard, he knew that Richard had talked about the Renault before and thought it was good. Pinning a small post-it onto his screen, he turned his attention to the file James had brought.

As all things with James, they were inside a brown folder. Jeremy smiled at that and opened it. He pulled the papers out. First the summary about a new car they might want on the show Jaguar XFR … not bad, maybe they could pitch it against the new BMW M5. Just as he was considering the possibilities a torn piece of paper fell from the stack.

“What …?” he muttered as he picked it up. It was ripped, and something had been written on it by hand. James' handwriting, he realized quickly. Frowning he read what it said:

“ _You need a connection: it's a desire that appears deep inside of you. A burning need that spreads across your body and can only be put out in one way. You want, you NEED more … because a simple touch is not enough.”_

He stared at the piece of paper, one fist clenched to keep himself under control. But the fist wasn't the only way his body was reacting. _Was it like that for James?_ He wondered for a moment.

“Fuck,” Jeremy muttered.

“What?”

Jeremy could have jumped out of his seat when he heard Andy's voice. “Fuck! Andy, what do you think you're doing?!” Jeremy quickly crumpled the piece of paper and threw it in some corner of his desk. That would have been a tricky one to explain …

“Reminding you to give me your draft about a car review which you promised me by midday and it's not here,” Andy explained as he stepped into the office. “You know that we're supposed to go on air in a month.”

“All right. I get it. No need to be a nanny. We've always managed on time. And we only need to fill two more slots.”

“Yeah, but I need to call up all the car companies and explain why their car might come home with shredded tyres.”

“One time ...” Jeremy shook his head, well aware that it had been more than one time. He found the stack of papers he had already prepared but forgotten to send someone down to deliver. “Here you go. I still need to talk to Hammond if he has the time to pitch the Renault against the Ford with me. But since he's out shooting, if he can't I'm sure that May can.”

“That wouldn't be as funny. May doesn't like any of those.”

“To be fair, he also doesn't dislike either of them,” Jeremy replied with a shrug. “We'll just hide Hammond's poodle and he'll do it.”

Andy smiled and nodded. “All right, I'll make sure he knows.”

“Thanks.” Jeremy ripped the post it off from his computer screen. One task less.

“Are you free tonight? Go for a pint?”

Jeremy shook his head. “No, already made plans with May,” he explained. “This reminds me ...” he muttered absently, took a fresh post-it and began to write something on it.

“And I can't join in?”

Jeremy looked up frowning. “Oh! No, the other sort of plans,” he explained quickly.

There were only a handful of people who have been told about the Clarkson and May relationship. Wilman was one of them.

“Understood. Have fun then.” Luckily, it hadn't made things uncomfortable.

“Wait, can you give this to the spaniel?” Jeremy quickly asked before he was out of the door. He gave him a post-it.

“Okay.” Wilman frowned but did as requested.

“Thanks.”

 

* * *

 

On his way back to the office Andy knocked on May's door. “Come in,” he heard, so he entered. James was furiously typing away on his computer.

“Clarkson told me to give you this. Hope that makes sense to you,” Wilman simply explained and handed the post-it over.

James looked up and read it. A small smile appeared on his lips. _Tell me more,_ it read. “Yes, it does. Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

An hour later the next message arrived on Jeremy's desk. Again it had been James who delivered it. It was only a piece of paper, not hidden in a folder, just neatly folded as you'd expect from the man. He had knocked on the door, dropped it off with a smug smile and an “as requested”, then disappeared into the men's loo.

Jeremy didn't think that it would cause the same effect as the last one. After all he was pretty much expecting it. So he unfolded the paper and began to read:

“ _I_ _t's a warm feeling the spreads across all of your body. A friction that is bittersweet, you can't get enough. You move closer, move faster, your toes curl, you dig your nails in. Then you feel that sweet spot, where you want to stay forever. Heaven and hell at the same time. You become aware of everything, and then … nothing. You can only hold onto the sole thing left to you. You will want to let go and give yourself over so very desperately. The point of no return is when you let go … There is nothing sweeter and more liberating than being pushed off that cliff.”_

He had been wrong, it did have the same effect. If not a bigger one. The whole day his brain had been … not at work. His mind had been wandering to what James had done, what his tongue could do to him, then what James could do to him in every possible way, and now?

“Crikey,” he just muttered, looking up.

 _Hadn't he gone to the Men's?_ He wondered; he needed him. He didn't know what he really wanted to do, but he couldn't wait until tonight. “Fuck it.” Quickly the note was slipped into his back pocket and he went for the loo.

 

* * *

 

James was washing his hands when Clarkson walked in. The first thing he noticed was that, yes, he had written well. The second was that he held up his finger. James should stay put, so he did. Of course only with a smug smile on his face. It was a very nice feeling to make Clarkson lose his stance. The other man seemed to check if there was anybody else in here; there wasn't.

As soon as Clarkson also came to that conclusion he walked up to James and kissed him deeply. He pressed him against the basin. And James could feel how much those little notes were affecting Jeremy.

Quickly and eagerly Clarkson's hands wandered underneath the waistband of James' jeans. For a moment neither cared that they were in a dangerous place and James pulled Jeremy closer, kissing him deeply, pushing his tongue inside his mouth.

“Jeremy ...” he muttered as reason slowly returned to him. Not all of it, otherwise he would have stopped. Instead he found his hand inside the back of Jeremy's boxers, nails digging into his bottom. His legs were still tightly wrapped around Jeremy's hips and James didn't intend on letting go.

“I know,” James heard a reply against his skin. “But I want to fuck you. Here, right now.”

“Good,” James just muttered and pulled him closer, even though that seemed impossible. “But ...”

Although they were settled nicely at the basin and it would have made for an amazing fuck, it was too dangerous for both of them. Instead Clarkson had a different idea. He didn't plan on waiting, and he didn't plan on moving … much. He reached around the other man's hip and lifted him up. For a moment he had completely forgotten about the bad back, or that May wasn't the lightest person in the world. It didn't matter, he managed well enough to drag him inside one of the stalls and push him against the wall.

“Fuck,” May muttered and kissed him again, fingers digging into his shoulder. _Was it locked?_ Yes, it was. “Do you have … ?”

“Yes,“ Jeremy cut him off before James could finish. He pressed his body against James' and kissed him, moving a leg between his. Their hands were fumbling with their jeans, trying to get rid of them quickly. Jeremy had been quicker with James' and went on his knees.

“Should I ask why you have lube in your office?” James muttered, as he watched Jeremy undressed him, pulling down James' pants and produce a small bottle out of his jeans.

“Later,” was the reply. Then he simply took James in his mouth, not a moment of hesitation. James let out a quiet moan as Jeremy began to run his tongue up and down the hard length. He was moving quickly. James let his head roll back and held onto the other man's shoulders.

It didn't take long until James felt a finger up his arse and he began to let out a louder moan. “Shh,” Clarkson shot back from his position. Never mind that James tended to be the louder of the two. Now, they really couldn't risk it.

After the second finger, Jeremy got back on his feet and pressed his body against James' again. “Fuck,” Jeremy muttered, feeling James' fingers work on his jeans, it was quickly undone and pooled around his ankles.

James pulled him closer, using the wall he wrapped his legs around Jeremy's hip again. Still with Jeremy's fingers up his arse, James bluntly chose to do the same. He pulled him even closer wrapped one hand around Jeremy's cock and dug a finger up his arse. This was rewarded with a bite in the shoulder and muffled moans.

Jeremy pulled his fingers out and began to fuck James against the wall. They had been having sex for long enough for Jeremy to not even put much of an effort into reading James' body. He just knew instinctively. James' legs tightened around him as Jeremy began to move inside him.

James threw his head back, biting his own lip, trying to make no sounds, while Jeremy moved perfectly. _God, he was good,_ James thought briefly, digging his finger deeper into his arse. This caused Jeremy to buck and lose pace for a moment. James loved that and in return did it again. He wanted to make him lose all of him, he wanted to make him let go. And good god, he wanted to be fucked and he wanted to fuck him!

All that, the perfect movement, the sweet moments, had lead to James' digging his nails deeply into Jeremy, and Jeremy felt James' hips buck. Jeremy knew what that meant and quickly shoved his tongue inside James' mouth. They were kissing sloppily as James began to lose himself and moaned against his mouth. It only took a few more strokes and then Jeremy came undone as well.

Breathing heavily he put James back on the ground, his head digging into James' shoulder as he tried to catch his breath. James was stroking gently along his back, knowing that no matter whether this was only a quick fuck, the other man needed some sort of comfort afterwards.

“You okay?” Jeremy muttered into his shoulder.

“More than that,” James simply replied, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “Your back?”

During the fuck Jeremy's bad back had been forgotten. It didn't always show, on some days even weeks it didn't hurt at all but he wasn't very keen on causing it to get worse.

“Is fine,” Clarkson replied and pressed a kiss onto James' neck. Then Jeremy kissed him lazily again.

“Why do you have lube in your office?” James asked laughing against his lips.

“Hammond,” Jeremy explained, breathing heavily. “As a joke.”

James shook his head and kissed him back.

“Tonight,” Jeremy began. “You can do me.”

“Are you sure?” James needed him to be sure. If there was even a shred of doubt then he wouldn't do it.

“Yes. I want to know what it feels like. I want to have you inside me,” was the reply, and there was absolutely no doubt in his voice.

 


	41. Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Predictably this contains explicit content

After the incidence in the Men's room, both had cleaned up and gone back to work. There was only one hour left. However, neither was really able to concentrate. James was suddenly going all Clarkson and started mapping out the worst case scenario.

It wouldn't even be that bad if Jeremy changed his mind, he could deal with that. Take a cold shower, take the matter into his own hands and done. But he feared that Jeremy would become unsure and change his mind without telling him; that he would _endure_ James having sex with him just so he wouldn't disappoint James. Quickly he made a mental note to remind Jeremy that he could always, always, put a halt to things.

He realized that the last hour at work had passed, and that he had accomplished nothing else. But since he always worked better with a pressing deadline, he didn't care much. James sighed and turned the computer off.

He was feeling nervous, but at the same time was looking very much forward to it. Unlike the flattering of nerves he had felt when he had been younger, this was due to wanting to make sure it would be perfect for Jeremy. That he'd have a good memory of it. Like James had of the first night with him … well, strictly speaking not night; morning, James mused as he knocked on Jeremy's door.

“Ready?” he asked with a smile. He saw Clarkson order his desk, put a pile to the left. This was usually the spot where he left work he hadn't managed the day, now housing a much bigger pile than usual. _Oh dear,_ had he really distracted him that much from work?

“Yeah.” A bright smile appeared on Jeremy's face as he walked around the desk. “So, your place?”

“Yep.” Together they set off to the BBC's parking garage. Usually he would have offered to share a car. While the garage was safe and it was therefore possible to leave on of their cars, he knew Clarkson would decline. Somehow the words didn't want to come out, he didn't know what to say … why was he so nervous? They had had sex before, just about an hour ago. _This was no different,_ James tried to tell himself. But he knew that he was lying.

“Nervous?” James broke the silence when they reached the garage.

“A little,” Jeremy confessed. “But I trust you.”

James stopped and looked at Jeremy. This caused Jeremy to come to a halt as well, wearing a confused expression. “Have I said something wrong?” he asked, but on James' there was only a soft smile.

“No, no you didn't. I just ...” He didn't finish the sentence. He guessed they both knew what he would have said.

Jeremy nodded and kissed him briefly. “I'll drive quickly, and you better do too.”

“Promise.”

 

* * *

 

James parked his car on the drive, and watched as Jeremy parallel parked his Mercedes with an unbelievable ease a few minutes later.

A few moments later the door was unlocked and both men entered the house. There was some uncertainty about the whole event. Should James offer him something to drink? Should they just get to the core of things right away?

“Wine?” James asked, feeling a little fidgety.

Jeremy shook his head and hung up his jacket on the post of the staircase.

“You know that I hate it when you do that,” James muttered and went to hang it up properly.

“Yes, I know. That's why I do it,” Jeremy mocked him. James heard a small purr and soon Fusker was rubbing up Jeremy's leg. “Hello cat.”

James smiled softly, he knew that Jeremy hated cats. All his pretentious arguments aside, the reason was very simple: too much fur, and Jeremy found it difficult to breathe. However, he seemed to reasonably like Fusker. At least he had never tried to set him on fire, or run the cat over. As long as the bag of fur didn't sit on his face, there seemed to be a truce.

“I think he's hungry, I erm I'll feed him quickly and you can ...” James broke off, he couldn't just suggest …

“Go up the bedroom and wait?” Jeremy finished for him. He briefly petted the cat's head before it chose to snuggle around James' feet.

“Yes, that,” James muttered, feeling one of the nervous knots become undone.

Jeremy nodded and turned on his heels. “Hope you hid your porn,” he teased, already on his way upstairs.

“Funny man,” James muttered and shook his head.

At least Jeremy seemed reasonably relaxed. That was the most important part. “Come,” he told Fusker and set off towards the kitchen. The cat got a bowl of food and James watched it eat happily for a few moments. He thought about Jeremy. A few hours ago he had had no doubt in his mind that they'd be doing this. What had changed? Nothing. But then why was he worrying so much … Sighing, he went upstairs. He knocked on his own bedroom door and found Jeremy sitting cross-legged on his bed.

His shoes were carefully placed side by side at the end of the bed, socks were also gone and other than that he was wearing the white t-shirt he normally wore underneath his button up, and jeans. He seemed to be reading something, maybe the old _Autocar_ magazine James had left there.

“Hey,” James muttered and moved behind him. Gently he wrapped an arm around him and kissed his neck. Jeremy leaned into his touch and covered James' hand with his own.

“Didn't find the porn,” he explained, putting the magazine aside. James smiled, he felt Jeremy turn and soon they were face to face. He kissed him softly at first, almost shy. Soon they got lost in that, the kisses turned into something more needed. Jeremy's hand gently cupped James' cheek. Meanwhile James held onto his hip, and pulled him closer. It didn't take long until James felt a warm hand creep underneath his own shirt and pull it over his head.

“Are … you erm” James muttered between the kisses but didn't manage to finish, since Jeremy set out to kiss along his throat. He felt a smug smile against his skin and shook his head. He was in love with an idiot, he concluded.

“You're more nervous about this than I am.” Jeremy sat back on his heel, looking at James intently.

“Maybe.” James just didn't want this to go wrong. His hands were still settled comfortably on Jeremy's hips. Due to his nervousness, he had almost missed the pump on his jeans.

“I just … I just want you to be comfortable,” James explained.

“I am.” Jeremy shuffled a little closer to the other man.

“And make sure nothing goes wrong.”

“It won't. I trust you.” And again Jeremy moved a little closer, one hand settling on his upper arm.

“You should know that no matter what we're doing, or how … erm far into this we are, you can always say stop.”

James had just about managed to avoid to say _how deep we're into this_ , and the smug smile on Jeremy's face told him that Jeremy was aware of that.

“I always knew that.” And even closer Jeremy moved. Now they were close enough for their foreheads to touch, for James to feel the other man's hot breath on his face. “And now, in return: I want you, and yes, you, to fuck me. Is that clear?”

James looked into those blue eyes, saw the smug smile and felt an even bigger one form on his own face. “Very,” James managed to get past his lips as he pressed against Jeremy, kissing him again.

This time the hesitance was gone. His hands moved delicately and efficiently. First the shirt was removed, gently Jeremy was pushed against the bedding. Drawing small moans from the other man, James set off exploring his neck, shoulder and chest with his tongue. Jeremy's hand settled on the other man's hair, gently tugging on it when he hit a place that was especially nice. James then made it a priority to stay there for a while, making sure Jeremy made all the adequate noises.

When they were both breathing heavily and fully relaxed, one of his hands sneaked under Jeremy's pants. He began to stroke him, slowly. Jeremy bucked a little, letting his head roll back. James watched with a smile on his lips. He set off to remove the whole undergarment and reached for the lube he had stored in the bedside table.

James stopped for a moment, seeing a pack of condoms as well. Both had been tested a few months back, and the tests had come back negative. “Jeremy, should I use a condom?” James asked nevertheless. Maybe he wouldn't like someone coming in his arse during his first time.

Jeremy opened his eyes and looked at James. He shook his head with a soft smile. James nodded in reply and kissed him again. Jeremy's hand cupped his cheek and the other undid James' own jeans, he couldn't push it down but that was all right.

“Are you sure?” James asked after they broke apart.

“Very,” Jeremy just replied. His voice had gone lower, which sent a shiver down James' spine.

James nodded and kissed him again, this time lazily and sloppily, while he began to stroke his cock. Soon he settled between Jeremy's legs, taking him in his mouth. This drew a long moan out of the man under him. He moved in a slow and steady rhythm while he lubed up his fingers.

While moving like this, he glanced up at Jeremy. Head thrown back, breathing heavier than usual, he seemed to be enjoying himself. James was too, he was always delighted to find out what he could do to the other man.

Gently he pushed one finger inside of Jeremy, and felt his toes curl. James made a mental note which sign showed him to move further. He always kept an eye on him, making sure that he could stop immediately if his partner showed any signs of discomfort.

James was able to draw an especially pleasing sound out of Jeremy when he found his prostate. He took advantage of that knowledge, watching his hip buck and hand clutch the sheets.

“Jesus,” he heard Jeremy mutter. James responded with a smile. His mouth left Jeremy's cock and he kissed his inner thigh instead. “Hmm, more.”

“Sure?”

A nod was the only reply, and soon James added another finger. This caused Jeremy push his body against James. _Eager_ , James noted, but then of course he would be. It didn't take much longer until Jeremy was holding onto James' shoulder, desperate.

“Please,” he begged James.

James nodded in reply, pulling his fingers out. He was rewarded by a soft sound of protest. This made James smile as he bent over the other man. He kissed him softly while lubing himself up. He positioned himself correctly, and gently moved into him.

James was careful to read Jeremy's body, which told him when to give the other man some times, or when to keep moving further. Soon they had found a pace both were comfortable with. Jeremy had his head thrown back, nails digging into his shoulders, legs wrapped around James as he moved ever so sweetly. He drew little moans from his partner with almost every stroke.

“Oh god, James,” Jeremy moaned, moving in sync with him. James moved faster, feeling Jeremy's nails dig into his back. He began to stroke him and Jeremy threw back his head letting out a shout. As if embarrassed he covered his face with one hand. James lost himself in the other man, feeling him perfectly, legs holding onto him and seeing him buck and lose control underneath him. “Jesus,” he muttered, he couldn't do that much longer.

“Jeremy,” James moaned as he moved faster, seeing the other man grind his teeth holding back another moan. He knew that Jeremy wasn't a loud man in bed, that it showed in different ways, wonderful way. His legs tightened around James' hips and his nails would leave a nasty red mark on his back.

James pulled the hand away from Jeremy's face. “I've got you,” James muttered breathlessly, seeing so many emotions flick across his face. Jeremy had given himself over, lost himself, he was so terribly open in that moment. No wonder he tended to bury his face in the nape of James' neck. There was a final sharp intake of breath and James felt Jeremy's body tense up and then shudder under him. He felt the semen run down his hand, and then joined Jeremy a few swift moves later.

James had meant to move efficiently, clean Clarkson up and then cuddle with him. The soft “No”, which Jeremy sounded in protest when James planned to move made him stay. James didn't mind, he lay on top of him, placing a gentle kiss on his shoulder. He waited, wondering if Jeremy would say anything. He didn't, instead he just lay under him, legs and arms loosely wrapped around him, looking as content as it seemed possible.

 

* * *

 

Two days later they were walking to the BBC office, two cups of takeaway coffee in their hands, when Jeremy asked a question which had been popping up in his head from time to time. “James, how awful was your first time with a man?”

James didn't even stop in his track, just shrugged his shoulders and replied. “Pretty.”

Jeremy smiled at him weakly, and nodded.

“Did that answer the question you actually wanted to ask?”

“Yes.” Jeremy stopped in front of the lift and pressed a button. “But I know that you prefer answering such questions in a simple way, so I had to pick the right one to answer my actual question.”

James smiled weakly, shaking his head. They really had known each other for far too long, it's a wonder they hadn't gotten together earlier … “Can I ask you something too?”

Jeremy nodded and they entered the lift, pushed the correct button, and the doors closed.

“Was it for you like I had said?”

Jeremy took a deep breath and James saw a slight flush creep onto his face. At least they were alone in the lift, for now.

“Pretty much, yes.” The door beeped and they walked out. Jeremy set off in the direction of his office. However, before he was out of James' earshot, he shouted “But I'll write it down for you!”

Half an hour later, James found a note on his desk, ripped out of a notepad and in Clarkson's handwriting:

“ _It's like a wonderful burn underneath my stomach, a warm feeling spreading across my whole body. First the legs, then the arms, then it's everywhere. A feeling of wanting more, wanting you. A fire that can only be put out in one way. A deep and even desperate need for you, a need to have you in me. My legs wrap around you, holding onto you, the rest hopelessly trying to find some way to cling to reality. I only find you, and I gladly give myself over._

_You know I am a man of words, and yours,_

_Jeremy.”_

This time it was James who quietly muttered “Fuck” and considered a visit to the lavatory.

 


	42. Lie

Richard was standing in front of the hangar while James was rambling on about their new motorbiking tour. He was suggesting places where they might go. However, Richard wasn't listening. He rather did those things on a whim, while James liked them neatly planned. Somewhere in the middle they met. Usually during a fight at a petrol station but that was good enough. He enjoyed their trips together.

“There is also a nice pub,” James explained as he came to a halt and took their scripts. “We could then stay the night and ride back home the next morning.”

“Sounds good,” Richard replied. At least he hoped that it sounded good. He hadn't really listened.

Then a Mercedes AMG pulled into the car park. “Finally,” Hammond muttered as he saw Clarkson sit behind the steering wheel.

“Morning,” he shouted across the car park. Even James had noticed that he had been later than usual. He wasn't late, just not as early. Instead of walking towards them, he walked around the car and opened the back door. Out came a pair of tiny feet.

“Come on,” they heard Clarkson's soft voice. James couldn't help the small smile, he knew those shoes. It was Katya, both men realized. It was rare that any of their children came with them to the studio.

The car door was slammed shut and Katya's small hand was in her father's, gingerly holding onto it. In her other hand she held Sally The Bear. They walked towards the two men. “Morning,” Jeremy greeted them.

They stopped but Katya kept holding her father's hand. James smiled, Clarkson was such a big man, his daughter was so tiny. “Hello, you two,” James greeted them.

“Hello, James,” Katya muttered shyly. “Hello, Hamster.”

Jeremy giggled and shook his head. “That really is your daughter,” Richard deadpanned. “Hello, Katya. How are you?”

“Good. Thank you.”

James handed the script over to Jeremy and then began to talk to Katya. This way her father would be able to read it through. Soon Andy joined them too.

“Okay, boys.” He noticed the small girl between the three tall man. “Oh hello, Little Clarkson,” he offered his hand to her. Carefully she took it, very familiar with the man as well. “Read through the script quickly. We're ready for rehearsal, in a few,” he told the boys. “And you Katya? Do you want to see the track? Have you ever seen it?” The little girl just shook her head. “Come on, I'll show you.”

Jeremy nodded, and gently patted his daughter’s small back. So both of them set off to discover their little place.

“Jeremy?” Richard began carefully. “Why is she here?”

He let out a sigh and nodded, his eyes were scanning the script quickly. He wondered if there were any last minute changes made that the script writers tended to do. “Erm, for one she had always wanted to come here,” Jeremy began. “And she just came off an ear-infection. I have all the children for the week, as Francie is on holiday. The other two are in school and Katya hates being with a maid. Also she likes Stephen Fry.”

James just nodded, he also knew that he spent so precious little time with her. He most likely hadn't really considered a baby-sitter.

“This also means no bad jokes which would have to be edited out,” he added quickly.

“We're not the one making them,” James replied sarcastically.

“Are you not?”

“Well, not always,” Richard answered. Then they made their way inside the hangar and began to read through the script. A few lines were changed to make the talk flow smoother and halfway through their planned read of the news they heard the hangar door open.

“DADDY!” Jeremy turned in his chair when he heard Katya's excited voice. She let go of Andy's hand and ran across the warm hangar, just managing to stop in front of him. “Stephen Fry gave me an autograph!”

“Has he?” Jeremy asked. Andy wasn't as quick as the small one, with Stephen Fry walking next to him.

“Our star is here.”

“Is he?” James added sarcastically. “Where is the rest of him?”

Quickly formalities were exchanged and they had a small conversation. All this time Katya sat on the small step and looked around the studio, fascinated. She held Sally The Bear carefully in her arms, and bid Fry goodbye when he left again.

“Katya?” Jeremy asked as he bent forward to read the next line of his script.

“Hmm?” She turned.

“Come here.” He patted his left thigh. Katya nodded and carefully crawled on her father's lap. She stayed there while they went through the whole script. Jeremy kept an arm around her small body. By the end her head was resting against his chest.

 

* * *

 

After the rehearsal and after Clarkson had quickly talked to Iain to make sure that the photo of Katya wouldn't be published, they had gone outside. It was warm enough for their version of picnic, also known as an old table, a few garden chairs and whatever the lowest paid cameraman would get them. It would still take one hour for the audience to get here.

Katya sat next to her father, Sally The Bear on her lap, and ate her bread. Meanwhile, Hammond and May were making jokes about Jeremy's cock up. The man just took the abuse, after all, he couldn't really reply with what was on his mind. That was a little stupid, Katya would sooner or later pick up the language. He hadn't been that shy around Finlo or Emily. However, Katya was different. She had a gentle nature and hoping against hope he wished that she kept that for as long as possible.

“Do you want more juice?” Jeremy asked her after most of the abuse against him had died down.

“Yes,” she replied.

While Jeremy refilled her glass, he muttered quietly. “She has to witness your treachery.”

“Hardly our fault,” James replied. “Also, she was laughing at you too. We all were.”

Katya giggled quietly and then louder when Jeremy squeezed her shoulders a little. “You little backstabber.”

With a bright smile she kissed him on the cheek, this shut Jeremy up.

“All right, all forgiven.” Again Katya was laughing happily. James couldn't help and smile at the image. He looked at Richard who was doing the same. Even since they had gotten together, he rarely saw Jeremy with his children like this.

“Daddy?” Katya began carefully. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Jeremy replied as he filled his own glass.

“In school we were talking about girls and boys in class.”

“All right.” Then he began to take a few careful sips, a bit unsure where this conversation was going.

“And a little how babies are made. I can't figure it out, you and James are both boys. Then how do you make love?”

At that Jeremy almost chocked on water. He cough a few times, shaking his head quickly. “We're erm … we're celibate.”

“Are we?” James asked, a wicked smile on his lips.

“Yes,” Jeremy replied too quickly, his voice high-pitched and hoarse.

“Yes, we are.” A wide smile appeared on James' face and he tried to hold back the laughter.

“You know, Jeremy, I've just forgotten what that means,” Richard asked in between. “Can you explain it to me?”

Jeremy shot him a very dark look, at the same time he seemed to ask for help from all of them. This, of course, would not happen. “Erm … it means James and I, we erm we don't have … erm … we don't make love.”

“But you two love each other. Right?” Katya stated clearly.

At that Jeremy looked at James, and at once the smug smile was wiped out of his face. They stared at each other helplessly. Half a year, and they hadn't managed to say those words out loud. It was danced around, it was hinted. But they had never …

“Katya,” Richard helped out. He would gladly watch Jeremy struggle trying to explain how anal sex worked, but this was something different. “They like each other, but you know how boys are. Can't admit it, right?”

“Yes,” Katya replied and soon Jeremy relaxed as well.

“Do you want to go over to Andy and prepare the wristbands?” Richard offered.

“YES!” she shouted, suddenly excited she jumped up from her seat and ran across the grass. “Uncle Andy! Uncle Andy!”

“Oh god,” Jeremy muttered and held his head in his hands as soon as she was out of ear-shot. He sank a little lower in his garden chair. “You two could have helped me.”

“What? And miss seeing you struggle how to explain that to your daughter?” Richard asked smugly. “No way!”

Jeremy's shoulders sagged. “You know, Katya,” he began his voice extra soft. “It's not all that different. One takes the womanly role, but the rear end is used.”

“Oh god! That's not a visual that I ever wanted to have!” Richard shouted, trying to fight the image in his head. “I can't un-hear that!”

Neither James nor Jeremy were able to hold back their laughter.

“You are aware that you have to explain it to her? You can't just lie,” James stated after the laughter died down.

“I know.” Jeremy sighed, wondering if he could just delay this and wait for Francie to explain that. Then again he was the one in the relationship with a man, so she'd most likely just send her back to him. Katya would lose patience and might even go on the internet. At that thought Jeremy shuddered, scary stuff.

“Well, Katya,” he began again. “Bottom stuff happens.”

 


	43. Wreck

Richard hadn't understood most words. He had stood outside his car; Clarkson had walked towards May. Maybe to ask what had gone wrong, maybe to mock him. After being threatened with a machete, Hammond would give him that. James had climbed out of his car, said something that Hammond hadn't understood. The noise, the distance … maybe he didn't want to.

May was walking to his bonnet, and Hammond could see that Clarkson's stance had stiffened. He lifted his arms in defence, asking something. James was getting his tool box, shaking his head, maybe replying.

“May, if this is about the crash … I told you I didn't meant to ...” Jeremy's voice was cut off as the a bus drove past. On the narrow and sandy path that was Death Road, that event alone would be scary. Hammond could see that James was shaking his head. “You're the one who wanted to cut my head off.”

There was a weak smile on Jeremy's lips and Richard knew that he was bribing James. A friendly tease, a chance to give him a look and a weak smile in return. To leave the tension behind.

But James didn't seem to pick up on that. “Shut up, Clarkson!” Richard could hear it clearly. There was moment of confusion on Jeremy's face … “I can't use your s---”

Another truck drove past cutting the rest of James' words off. Jeremy's next words could be understood clearly in the silence that was left behind. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

James shook his head and tried to put some distance between him and Jeremy. He was walking closer to camera crew and towards Hammond.

“It's not like you've ever been of any use!” James shouted back, his voice louder than the next car that dashed past them. Richard stiffened. Clarkson was running after James and grabbed his arm, yanking him around. James quickly freed his arm and pushed Jeremy away from him. “Just fuck off!”

This hadn't stopped their fight, it only made it worse. Richard picked up pace, he needed to break this up. They couldn't fight, not right here, not right now. He hadn't understood what they were shouting at each other, as one drowned out the other.

“You know what?”

“What?”

“I'm fucking leaving.” Hammond stopped dead in his track. “That's it,” Jeremy shouted and shoved James aside, making his way towards his car.

James didn't reply, he stood there. His hands balled into tight fists, his jaw clenched, his eyes fierce but not looking at anyone in particular.

Jeremy just drove off. “Bye bye,” he told them over the radio and held up two fingers.

 

* * *

 

A dark feeling settled in James' stomach. His car was dead, it didn't recharge, and he didn't want to be out here. He hated heights, he hated that Jeremy had left him. This was different, this was really scary. As he turned his head he saw Hammond standing next to him.

“You all right?” Richard asked.

James nodded slightly, and walked back to the car. He wanted the shitty thing fixed before the night would fall.

 

* * *

 

Jeremy held his head bent over the steering wheel, a few miles up the road, just barely managing not to fall down the cliff along with his Range Rover. He wished that this had been pre-scripted. However, not even they were that stupid. He shook his head when he heard Andy's voice over the radio.

He needed a moment … _What would have happened if the Ranger Rover had gone down?_ he briefly wondered. He would have been aware, of the falling, he would have died only when he hit the bottom. Shaking his head he banished these thoughts, no wonder James was scared of heights.

His hands were still shaking as he reached for the radio. “Have you heard of the two other idiots?” he asked, his voice sounding steady. That was good, it meant it didn't look like he had shat his pants in the video.

“No, we think they're our of range,” Andy replied.

“Think?”

“They are. We could call via the satellite phone. We don't think that's needed yet,” Jeremy heard his calming voice. He was right, Jeremy realized. It wouldn't do anyone more good, it would just fry their nerves more.

“Right.” Jeremy put the radio aside, changed into gear and drove off, the tracking car driving ahead of him.

 

* * *

 

“Please don't leave me,” James pleaded with Hammond over the radio. James couldn't see, he was scared, he really didn't want to be left behind. Not again …

“Oh god, those words will hunt me for the rest of my life” Richard tried to joke. He knew the gravity behind those words. “I won't, mate.”

Carefully they were making their way up Death Road. Hammond asked the tracking car how far the over-night halt was. After all they couldn't use their own GPS, as it would drain the battery too much. Hammond bit his lip, it would only be a few more miles. Just a handful. They would manage that. For a moment, Hammond felt one of his wheels slip on the wet gravel. He let out deep breath, reached for his radio to warn May. He wouldn't like that. Not at all …

Hammond looked in his rear-view mirror. James had already crossed that place. To his own surprise James' car wasn't following him any longer. Hammond's car screeched to a halt. _Bad, very bad,_ he knew. He left the keys to the camera man that was lighting their way and jumped out.

“May!” he shouted, seeing that James was crouching next to his car, taking deep breaths. Quickly he was at his side and knelt down next to him. “It's all right, we're almost there.”

James shook his head. “I can't fucking do this!” he shouted. “Fucking hell I don't want to!”

Hammond gently touched his shoulder. For a moment he was at a loss for words. Of course, James wheels had slipped as well and given how close they were to the edge … “It's just four miles, mate,” Richard tried, his voice calm.

“No!” James shook head. “I'm not fucking doing it!”

May wiped something away from his face. It took Hammond a moment to realize that it were tears. He had never seen him cry … Hammond realized. All those years and yet …

“He fucking left,” James muttered and shook his head.

“What?” Richard frowned, at a loss for a moment. Then he realized: Jeremy. He could have guessed. He should have guessed.

“He left me.”

Richard didn't want to think about that possibility. “Are you sure?”

James shook his head in reply.

After a few more minutes of consulting James climbed back into his car. Then they set off again, even though James hadn't turned his mini-cam back on, and nobody was able to convince him otherwise.

 

* * *

 

Jeremy was already fidgety after an hour. Yes, Andy had called the other crew. Yes, they were all fine and would be fine. When the dark had settled Jeremy couldn't sit still any longer. Andy had bribed him with beer and wine. Some food. However, he had refused it all … almost all. The Rosé had calmed his nerves, at least at first.

It took another hour until he saw a pair of lights. The radio chirped and Hammond's voice echoed through. “Please tell me that crappy hut is the correct one.”

Andy reached for the radio. “It is.” Jeremy felt him pat his back.

 

* * *

 

James' heart actually beat faster when he spotted the hotel. Finally. Roads, a bed, a warm room, a shower … then his heart sank again. Jeremy. He wanted to be with Jeremy. He took a deep breath. Had they had a fight like this? He briefly wondered. They had banters, lots of them, but these didn't leave either of them drained. No, they didn't fight like this.

He watched as Richard got out of his car, turned towards him and motioned for James to come along. He did so with a weak smile. Richard cared, James realized. He'd help him. Somehow …

 

* * *

 

Jeremy saw the crew make their way in, cameramen, audiomen, director. Then he took a deep breath.

“James,” he muttered, stopping in place. They stood at opposite sides of the room, just looking at each other, both looking beaten, desperate and their emotions raw.

Hammond's plan had been to mediate, to translate, to make sure that things didn't escalate again, but James shook his head. Jeremy must have noticed something in him, something that only he would know. In a few swift strides he was at James' side, drawing the other man into his arms and wrapping them tightly around his body. James shook his head again, his breathing hitching. James' hands were holding tightly onto Jeremy.

“I'm sorry.”

“Why did you leave me?” Richard heard James mutter.

Jeremy opened his eyes, looking at Hammond. Not that he should leave them alone, maybe wanting an explanation … if he had heard the same wording. If he had understood him in the same way.

“I didn't,” Jeremy replied, his voice low. “Not like this.”

“I thought you ...” James' breath hitched, he pulled away slightly.

Clarkson kissed the top of his head. “Never.” Then ran his hand through the unwashed hair. “I wouldn't. I wouldn't leave you.” He kissed James' temple.

Gently James reached out his hand to touch Jeremy's cheek, wiping the tear away. They had been too exhausted. Too raw …

“I never wanted you to …” Jeremy cut off, James just kissed him. Soft. Gentle. Quick. He understood. They were hugging again. This time Richard found Jeremy's eyes again … they were grateful.

Hammond smiled weakly and left the room.

 


	44. Collide

Jeremy rolled onto his side. Nobody could sleep. They all tried, but nobody could. The noise was too loud. It had been past midnight when the rest of the crew had arrived.

They all wanted to rest. They needed it. And nobody could. In the jungle it had been the horrid noise made by all the animals. This … Clarkson wasn't sure if this was better or worse. In the jungle you couldn't shut the animals up. You couldn't shoot them all.

However, here it was loud music because someone had chosen to party. Andy had tried. He really had, he had gone over, explained that they had a long journey ahead, that they were filming tomorrow and asked for the music to be turned down. He hadn't even asked them to stop, or to quit the party earlier. Just to turn the music down. And the reply he got? They had threatened to shoot his head off.

After that nobody had tried. Jeremy had been able to see that Andy wasn't even joking, that he believed every word. Jeremy had offered him a beer, knowing this would calm his nerves.

Nevertheless they had tried to sleep. Tried. In a stuffed room, with at least four people. The town didn't have anything else. The air was cold, but it wasn't fresh. They couldn't open the window because of the noise.

Jeremy could hear a grunt, not sure from which of the men it had come. Someone crawled out of bed and began to pace the room, the pace far too familiar to him: _James._

Jeremy knew that he'd get shouted at very soon if he wouldn't stop. Or maybe they were all just too exhausted. Then he heard him walk to the bathroom, drink a bit of water, maybe he went to the loo.

“I'll murder him,” Hammond muttered under his blanket. He knew that they were all still awake, since James had given the clue. It was like an unspoken rule that if one was clearly awake they could talk.

“Don't,” Andy replied quietly, he heard his sheet rustle as he turned onto his shoulder. Four single beds. Barely long enough to keep all of Clarkson inside, but then he was a tall man.

Then he heard James come back into the room. He ruffled his hair in frustration and shook his head. He paced up and down the room. Up and down. Jeremy watched his frame with sleepy eyes. Up and down. Up and down. He couldn't just let him do that. Up and down.

“James,” Jeremy called out softly when he was at his height. The other man stopped, looking at him, his face desperate. “Come here.” Jeremy offered him his hand. It might only be a small comfort, but maybe it would help.

James gave a small nod and took his hand. Jeremy pulled him into the bed. Without another word he shuffled aside and James crawled to him.

His body was tense, Jeremy realised. They were still emotionally drained … They just needed each other, the night alone would have been enough reason.

Gently he wrapped his arms around James, kissed the nape of his neck and the place on his shoulder where he knew a scar was. Then he gave him a squeeze. He felt James let out a deep breath, he was relaxing.

“It's all right,” Jeremy muttered, feeling James' hand cover his arm, keeping him close. Not wanting him to let go, letting Jeremy trap him. When Jeremy wasn't awake and spooning with James, he normally left an escape route. A way that James could slip away should he get uncomfortable. James had never needed to and this time he didn't even want to. “We can be miserable together,” Jeremy whispered.

James smiled and nodded. “I …,” then he cut himself off. Better to leave it unspoken. Not here, not after yesterday. Not when they were stressed, not when they were desperate. It was the wrong moment.

“I know,” Jeremy muttered, but James was sure he didn't know what he had wanted to say.

Instead James just muttered a quiet “Thank you.” As a response Jeremy kissed his cheek.

They kissed briefly, closing their eyes. Sleep didn't come … it wouldn't come for anyone in this room until early morning. But nobody said anything.

 


	45. Nature

Jeremy sighed happily as he cuddled closer to James. His eyes were still closed and he wasn't planning on leave the bed any time soon.

“Mmh,” James just replied, his hand wandering to Jeremy's shoulder. The thumb was drawing gentle circles, making Jeremy smile.

They just stayed there. Not wanting to talk. Not wanting to move. Jeremy snuggled his head further onto James' chest and wrapped his arms around his naked body.

“This is nice,” he mumbled after a while. Their legs were sticking out from under the blanket, and they enjoyed the soft breeze that was travelling through the room.

“It is,” James replied quietly, kissing the top of his head.

“We should go on holiday more often,” Jeremy mumbled as he shifted a little bit. It was their first week-long holiday. They had had little trips here and there. However, this was the annual Clarkson family holiday, and Jeremy couldn't see a reason to not take James with him. After all they'd been together for over a year. His children had adjusted to their father's partner.

To Jeremy's own surprise James had agreed easily, and their destination was also found with ease: the South of France. The only change had been that they had to rent a holiday home, which was fine because they had also hired a cleaning woman.

“Daddy?”

Jeremy rolled over, seeing Katya standing in the doorway. She was still wearing her jim-jams and holding Sally The Bear by one arm.

“Hmm?” He tucked on the blanket, making sure that all important bits were covered.

Katya walked towards him and sat on the edge of the bed. “Are you two naked?”

“Yeah,” James replied before Jeremy could. He kicked him a little for it.

“Why?”

“Because it was a warm night,” Jeremy lied.

James grinned childishly. “Hot night.”

This got him kicked again, hard enough to make him yelp. “Fine, fine.” James rubbed his shin. “I'll take a dump.”

Katya laughed and turned her back, looking stubbornly at the other wall so James could slip out of bed and into boxers. “Okaidoki,” he muttered, letting her know it was safe to look again. As he left the room he kissed the top of Katya's head. She had started to let him do that a while ago.

“I like him,” Katya stated happily and turned to face her father again.

“Good,” Jeremy offered Katya his hand and she took it. She was still so small, tiny little hands compared to his own.

“I also want to have such a sweet boyfriend,” she muttered.

Jeremy huffed and shook his head. “Hope for someone who farts less in bed.”

“Ew!” And soon enough a pillow flopped onto his head.

“All right! All right!” he shouted in defeat. “No farting stories. I get it. What did you want, Little One?”

Katya bit her lip, looking at the pillow she had just thrown at her father. “I wanted to make breakfast for us all.”

“That's nice.”

“But I'm confused by the microwave,” she admitted quietly.

“I see.” Jeremy sat up. “I'll help you, okay? Wait in the kitchen, I'll get dressed.”

“Thanks, daddy.” She kissed his cheek and ran happily out of the room, leaving Sally the Bear behind.

 

* * *

 

“Here.” James opened his eyes when he heard Jeremy's voice. He was lying comfortably on the soft grass near the pool, wearing an idiotic sun hat to try and protect his face from the sun.

“Hmm? Thank you,” he muttered and propped himself on his elbow. He took the drink Jeremy had offered.

“Banana Daiquiri,” Jeremy explained sitting down next to him.

“Mmmh. They're wonderful.” James sipped on his drink.

Jeremy smiled at him. Half the day had already passed and they had been doing pretty much nothing at all. The children had found their own way to entertain themselves, at least Katya and Finlo had. Emily had only decided to move out of bed four hours ago and after lunch had chosen to keep on sleeping some more in the sun. She may have called it sunbathing.

“Listen, May,” Jeremy began. “Can you not hint near Katya that we had sex?”

James laughed a little. “I didn't.”

“You did.”

“Okay, maybe a little bit,” James admitted. “But no harm done. I thought you explained how it works to her.”

“I did.” It had been the most awkward conversation he had ever had. In his whole life. Worse than explaining the birds and bees to any of his children. Explaining the bees and bees. “She doesn't exactly need to know when we do … that.”

“I don't do it to annoy her,” James explained. “I just like the way you always struggle when I do.”

Jeremy's shoulders sagged. “You are such a child,” he muttered. “Fair enough. But have you ever caught your parents having sex?”

A shiver ran down James' spine. “Sadly I did.”

“No wonder you turned gay.”

James shook his head but was smiling. “That was low.” Still Jeremy was only giggling to himself. “All right. I get it. No gay puns near Katya.”

“Or Finlo.”

James had been aware of that a long time ago. “Will do. Or won't do. Depends how you see it.”

“Thank you.”

“Now, come here,” James mumbled. He let his hand glide along Jeremy's back. He pulled him down so that in the end Jeremy's face was snuggling into his chest again. Just like it had done in the morning.

“Tomorrow we can go the beach,” Jeremy suggested. “Emily wants to go, Fin too. Katya doesn't care all that much.” Meaning that she'd most likely spent the time with them. James didn't mind, it felt … domestic. Though he wasn't sure if he could do it 24/7 like Jeremy had to.

“Sounds good.” James sipped on his drink again and dumped his idiotic sun hat on Jeremy's head.

“Thank you.” Jeremy kissed him before he rested his head back on his chest.

They stayed like that for a long time. Eyes closed. Lolling around, sipping on their drinks, muttering a few short sentences here and there, without ever starting a real conversation. Just lying in each other's arms, enjoying the sun, the warm breeze and somewhere in the distance the children playing. Jeremy thought that for him, James' chest was the best place to stay.

After a few hours they heard children's voices, but neither of them bothered a lot to try and understand them. Jeremy cracked open an eye, only able to see their silhouettes against the sun.

The warmth had lulled him into an almost sleep like state. “What is it?” Jeremy muttered.

“Now,” Emily ordered. Before Jeremy even got any chance to register what was going on, a big bucket of water was emptied over them.

“FUCKING HELL!” Jeremy cursed out loud and got to his feet. Emily and Finlo took off, running away. James just sat there, looking like trenched dog, confused what was going on. He saw that Jeremy had caught up with his eldest daughter, holding her tightly around the hip and dumping her in the swimming pool with much protest and laughter. “That'll show you!”

James shook his head laughing. He looked at Katya who was standing next to him. Carefully she took his hand and sat down next to him. “We're hungry,” she explained.

“I had figured,” James muttered. “Come one, we'll order something while Clarkson kills your brother.” After all, not having to cook was also a part of this holiday.

 

* * *

 

While they were seated on the sofa, the television set for BBC World – the only British channel they had down here – and eating their take away directly from the containers it had come in. Finlo cleared his throat. “Why are people gay?”

“Fin, you can't ask that.” Emily cut him off. For a moment Jeremy wasn't sure if that was because of herself or because of him and James. He looked at May for a moment and shrugged his shoulders.

“It's fine, but I don't know,” Jeremy replied honestly.

“I do,” James stated.

“Really?”

“Well, no, not really.” He shifted in his seat. “But it's not uncommon. There are hundreds of species which show homosexual behaviour. Do you want to hear about it?”

Finlo looked at Emily for a moment, she nodded and so the boy replied with yes. Actually, Jeremy must have been the one to be most interested in that.

“For example it's found in mammals because they're the ones to raise their young. When the parents of a child are killed, it is often adopted by same sex couples,” James explained. “Because the couple with different sexes are too busy making new offspring to look after someone else's. They looked at penguins where this behaviour is very prominent because of the harsh surrounding. It's normal.”

“Interesting.” Finlo nodded. “Thank you.”

Jeremy smiled at him. Finlo had had his own way of adjusting to this relationship. He guessed that this was just a way to do so. In fact Finlo had dealt with it brilliantly, if one ignored the fact that he had cursed at his father for something that wasn't his fault. He had explained why he had reacted that way. Jeremy was proud of his son, no matter what.

“How do you know that, Slow?” Jeremy asked.

“I just know a lot.” James shrugged his shoulders. Jeremy didn't buy that and gave him a look. “Okay, once I had a boyfriend who was very very invested in those things.”

“What?” Jeremy laughed. “Did he want you to wear your special trousers and a pride flag suit at all times?”

“Pretty much.” James kicked his legs. “God he was annoying. Even more than you.”

 

* * *

 

James was padding barefooted over the sand. He liked the tingling feeling it gave him. He listened to a story Katya was telling. She liked to make them up, which was all right by James. As long as he could tell. The little girl was holding onto him with one hand, and carrying an ice cream cone in the other.

James sat down beneath the comforting shade of the sun umbrella, with Katya next to him. Jeremy had gone to rent a jet-ski. After all that was his most favourite thing to do while on holiday. He did it every year. James did enjoy having a go at it from time to time, but that would have meant leaving the children alone on the beach. Emily had chosen to look after Finlo since both of them were playing ball in the water, but Katya she wasn't so fond of the water. Yes, she could swim, but she wasn't strong enough when she had to swim in open water.

This didn't bother James too much, he'd just kidnap the jet-ski tomorrow, or when they'd go on a short holiday alone. Instead he sat in the shade, wondering how long he could stare at the bare chested women before being called out as an old perv and listened as Katya finishing her story.

“Where's daddy?” she asked after she was done eating her ice cream. James looked up from his book.

“Hmm?”

“Daddy?”

“Oh.” He put it down, looking towards the ocean. A couple of jet skies were out and about, not all of them close enough to see who was riding them. One had stalled – not Clarkson – and two were happily driving over the waves. One was close enough for James to spot a slightly fat man with a bald patch. “There.” He pointed at him.

Katya got on her feet and started to wave at the figure. James couldn't help but smile. “That looks so cool,” she muttered.

“It is.”

“Can he see me?” she asked turning towards him.

“Maybe, if he were looking.” If James could see him, he could see them. However, Jeremy was busy enjoying a splash through the waves. For a moment James considered calling out to him, shouting his last name. Since that might cause a bit of a stir, James went for a safer option. “Hey, pube-haired idiot!” he shouted.

The jet-ski stopped and soon James was able to make out that Jeremy was showing him a certain sign. He laughed, giving Katya's shoulder a slight squeeze. The girl waved happily and there Clarkson found it wiser to not flip her off and waved instead.

Then Jeremy set off again. “See.” James sat back down while Katya chose to look at her father going about. As much as James cared for him, his book was more interesting.

A few pages in, James heard the most frightening sound of his whole life. “DADDY!” Katya's voice shrieked. She ran towards the open water.

“No. No!” James shouted, managing to catch her arm and pull her back, perhaps more brutal than he had intended to, keeping her trapped. While she struggled to get out of his tight grip, James scanned the water wondering what had made her shout. Then he saw it, an empty jet-ski drifting the wrong way up. Jeremy's.

“It's all right. He'll come back up,” he tried to reassure her. Hoping that it would be true. If Jeremy had gone over and maybe even hit his head … no he mustn't think that. Katya still kicked, wanting to get free. “Shh,” James muttered and kissed the top of her head.

Then he saw Clarkson break the surface. James let out a breath and felt Katya give up the fight. “Thank god,” he muttered. Another jet-ski was heading for Clarkson, the person offered him a hand and helped him crawl on the back of his.

 

* * *

 

“How are you?” James asked as he re-entered the living room, carrying a small first aid kit.

“Good,” Jeremy replied from the sofa, smiling. He was stretched out along the length of the couch, his left leg propped on a pillow to keep it elevated.

“How is she?” James pointed at Katya. She was sitting on Jeremy's lap, hugging him tightly. It didn't look like she was planning on letting him go any time soon.

“Asleep.” Jeremy had his arms wrapped around her too. “She's just scared.”

“Yeah.” He sat down at the edge of the sofa. “How is your hand?”

When Jeremy had gone overboard and turned the jet-ski over he had twisted his hand pretty badly. The medics had bandaged it, but concluded that nothing had been broken, which was a blessing. Along with his hand he had twisted his ankle, in a way that Clarkson had never known his foot could go. “It's fine. A bit swollen but works like normal,” he explained weakly.

James pulled the small bandage off Jeremy's knee to see where he had scraped it. He winced a little, but kept every comment to himself. “James?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you,” Jeremy muttered. He gave Katya a tiny squeeze. “For holding her back. Don't know what would have happened if she had gone in.”

James smiled weakly and nodded. He would do it again. “That'll burn.” Jeremy nodded. He clenched his teeth feeling the alcohol seep through the wound. Luckily, James was swift and good with those things and soon he put a fresh bandage around his knee.

“Can I ask you something?” James began as he packed the kit away. “Have you ever considered what would happen to … them if you were to die?”

Jeremy took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah, a few times. But it's not such a hard question to answer.” Their voices were quieter than usual. Maybe because of the topic, or maybe because neither of wanted to wake Katya. The poor girl hadn't managed one quiet minute until she had tightly clung onto Jeremy. “They'd just go to Francie. And legally you wouldn't have ...”

“I know.” James smiled weakly. _When had he grown so fond of Jeremy's children?_ He wondered.

“Can I ask you something too?” Jeremy began carefully.

“Sure.”

“Your gay penguins ...” James rolled his eyes. “Do they root each other?”

James nodded. “Yeah.”

Jeremy began to laugh quietly. James really wanted to call him childish but he couldn't help it. He just smiled brightly at him, shaking his head.

This caused Katya to stir “Shh.” Jeremy kissed the top of her head. “Go back to sleep, Little One.”

James gave Jeremy's leg a squeeze.

“I'm glad you're my gay penguin,” Jeremy muttered, maybe the most unromantic thing that had ever come across James' path. “And that you were Katya's.”

“Any time,” he replied quietly. Carefully he bent over Katya and kissed Jeremy on the lips. The small girl stirred again. James placed a hand between her shoulders. “I'll bring her to bed.” Jeremy nodded.

“Shall I tuck you in?” he asked Katya. A sleepy nod was her only reply. James reached under her and lifted her up. “There we go.” and carried her to the bedroom.

 

* * *

 

James' compassion for Jeremy had lasted about two days. Then he had gone back to being how they always were with each other. In fact, he and Finlo had conspired against him. After Jeremy had spent his afternoon napping in the sun, woke up again and walked into the bathroom they heard a loud a clear shout through the whole house.

“JAMES! YOU ARSE!” As soon as that had left his mouth Finlo and James began to laugh loudly, while the two girl just stared at each other in confusion. “I'll kill you! I'll chop you into little pieces and feed you to communists! Then I'll force you to eat their shit!”

“That doesn't make sense,” James replied flatly as he heard Clarkson make his way towards the living room. As soon as he entered James burst out laughing again. This time everyone joined in.

“You've written Twat with sunscreen on my forehead!” Jeremy accused him.

“Relax. It's just sun burnt,” James explained between giggle fits. “As soon as that's gone, nobody will know that your a twat.”

“Wouldn't be so sure,” Emily muttered.

 


	46. Religion

_“When you don't know what to believe in, love will be your religion”_

* * *

 

James gave the comfortable warm body he was lying on a tight squeeze. He let out a sigh and slowly opened his eyes. He noticed the sun shining into Jeremy's bedroom. Slowly he blinked the sleep out of his eyes. Jeremy was breathing evenly under him, one of his arms wrapped around James' shoulders, his thumb gently stroking him.

“Morning,” James muttered. Jeremy often woke up before him; James guessed that it had something to do with his insomnia. It was worse when there was stress, but Jeremy had admitted that it got better over the last year and a half. James did the math and realized that that was since they had been together.

Jeremy merely grunted and kissed the top of his head in reply. James looked up, wondering what he was thinking about. Before long, he simply decided to ask him.

“Marriage.”

James was taken aback for a moment. “Sorry?”

“Don't worry, I'm not planning on marrying you.”

“Yeah, good. It's not legal.”

“That too.”

James shifted slightly, so that he was resting more on his stomach and to be eye to eye with Jeremy. “Then why have you been thinking about marriage?”

“Because ...” Jeremy paused for a moment, then he finally looked at James. “Because I love you.”

A surprisingly comfortable feeling settled in James' stomach. He had never said something like that. Since a year they had danced around those words. With a wide smile James asked him. “You do?”

“Yes, fuck. I do.” Jeremy shook his head. “Never thought I'd say this again.”

James bent forward and kissed him softly. Jeremy kissed him back, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“I won't marry you. Even if it were possible.”

Jeremy let out a huff and shook his head. “I know that. That's not why I was thinking about it.”

“But?”

“Well.” Jeremy shifted slightly, he was lying on his side facing James. “You know when you marry someone that you automatically acquire some rights. Next of kin, proxy, heir, right to adoption for the stepchildren.”

“Aahh.” James realized where this was going.

“You don't really worry about that when you marry, it just happens.”

“And since you are endlessly in love with me, you've been wondering ...” James tried to move things forward.

Jeremy gave his shoulder a painful squeeze. “I did not say 'endlessly'” He shook his head and James couldn't help laughing.

“Go on.”

“Right, I've just compared our legal situation to marriage. I'm not really interested in getting your stuff when you die. My stuff goes by law to my children, most of it would do so even if we were married. You asked me to be your proxy some years ago ...” A few months after Sarah had left, James remembered. He didn't added that Jeremy hadn't asked to return the favour. He wasn't Jeremy's proxy. “Basically we're all settled there. I thought about my children. Now, you see you don't actually have a right for adoption as long as the other parent lives.”

“Jeremy. I do love your children. But parenting is ...”

“Scary?” Clarkson ended the sentence for him. James just nodded in reply. “Oh god yes, it is. Scariest thing I have to do. You have no idea.”

James moved a little closer, gently he cupped Jeremy's cheek.

“Where was I? Right, children. Say Francie would be dead and we could actually marry you could ask to become their legal guardian. When I'd die there would still be someone to look after them.”

“Right.”

“But that doesn't matter anyway, because I'm not planning on killing Francie and we can't marry. And you don't want to marry,” Jeremy added.

James shuffled a little closer. “No, I don't want to. But that doesn't have anything to do with you.”

“Why don't you like marriage?” Jeremy had never asked that.

“Simple, for one out of quiet protest.” James shrugged his shoulders. “Then I've never seen the point of it. If I'm going to stay together with someone for the rest of my life I don't need the state to make sure that I do. And if it doesn't work ...” James cut himself off.

“What? Won't have to go through two divorces?”

James winced a little bit. “I didn't want to say it, but yes.”

He knew that Jeremy didn't like to talk about this. When the topic did come up, he could often spot a dark shadow in his eyes. It wasn't like Jeremy missed these two women, but for him they were a reminder that he had failed.

“Don't worry about it,” Jeremy muttered. “I'm not planning on marrying you. Two really is enough for me. I would most likely also ruin this one.”

James kissed him briefly before he hugged him tightly. _He hadn't ruined them_ , James wanted to say. But he knew Jeremy wouldn't want to hear it. Instead he just gave him a squeeze. He felt Jeremy's arms sneak around his hip.

“Can I ask you something?” James muttered into his shoulder.

“Hmm?”

“Why did you marry?” Carefully he moved back, wanting to be able to look at Jeremy. The other man let out a long breath and shrugged his shoulders.

“Well, the first time I was young. Actually I thought that it's the thing I would have to do. I liked her, I really loved her. Around my age other people already had their first children. Trust me, nothing makes you fall out of love easier than discovering that she's fucking your best friend.” James nodded, and Jeremy took a moment. “She blamed me, stabbed me with a fork – as you know -” Without realising James' hand went to the thigh and covered the small scar. “We got a divorce. Never talked again. Francie, she was different. Yes, I fell in love with her quickly but I was shy. After we had become friends I told her that I sort of liked her. We got together, moved in together and after three years we discussed children. Discovered that we would both like to have some, so we got married. She got pregnant, we moved to Chipping Norton. Had two more children, love ran out, she fell in love. Got a divorce and now it's like the whole thing has never happened.” Jeremy sighed.

“Do you miss it?” James asked quietly.

“What? Francie?”

“No …” James quickly corrected, he couldn't really put it into words. “That feeling.”

Jeremy frowned for a moment. “Not really,” he answered after a while. “I do miss the ignorance sometimes. Just a little bit. I mean I was young and stupid. I thought the future would be bright and I'd spend the rest of my life with Francie, even Alex. But it wasn't enough, I have dealt with it.” Then he shrugged his shoulders.

James nodded, it had been the same with Sarah. Even more so, because he had to learn how to stop loving her. This hadn't be easy, and it had cost him a lot of sleep. But he didn't like talking about it either. He could understand Jeremy. He really could, and the other man knew. It was the first time they had talked about this. Usually they stayed clear of the this topic.

“Jeremy,” James began carefully. The other man looked in his eyes. “I love you too.”

A smile formed on Jeremy's face. His eyes shining brightly again. He bit his lip and nodded. The he quickly reached for James and kissed him. He pulled James to him, holding him tightly while they were kissing.

“James,” he muttered when they broke apart a little bit, their faces still close enough that James could feel his hot breath. “Sometimes I don't know what to believe in, but I know that I can believe in this.”

“You just paraphrased a song,” James accused him. “It was on the radio yesterday. I was in the car with you!”

Jeremy just shrugged his shoulders. “It's the thought that counts?”

“You big old soft shite! You are made out of miles of softness under all this shite!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song I quoted and James & Jez listend to on the radio is "Religion" by Skylar Grey


	47. Zebra

With another burp Jeremy turned the corner. Weakly he crawled back onto the sofa, snuggling into James' side, his head resting on James' chest, automatically finding the most comfortable spot. James wrapped his arm tightly around Jeremy's shoulders.

James didn't really need to ask what Jeremy had just done. They were both pretty aware of it. “You okay?” he simply asked instead.

“No,” Jeremy replied. He slapped James' chest weakly. “I'll kill you. As soon as I can walk more than two steps again.” Right now, that was far from possible now. He just felt horrible.

“For that I'd need to be able to run away.” That was the only positive thing Jeremy could see. James was feeling as crap as Jeremy.

“Still,” Jeremy simply muttered as he pulled the blanket up to his shoulders. This way it covered James' chest too. “You won't feel better for long.”

“I know, because you will put my head into a …” A burp from James. He took a breath and shook his head. “... a brown paper bag and kick it.”

“Exactly,” Jeremy muttered and closed his eyes. He felt exhausted, and it didn't take long for him to just fall into a slumber.

James running his thumb along Jeremy's shoulder, listening to his breath evening out into a heavy and steady flow.

Jeremy came back to himself it was when he felt some fur pressing against his hand. Jeremy automatically rubbed his hand along the face. Fusker pressed against his touch and and began to purr happily. Jeremy opened his eyes and felt James' lips on top of his head.

“Feeling better?” James asked carefully.

“Not really.” He stretched his legs and shuffled a little closer to James. “You?”

With a sigh James reluctantly admitted. “No.”

The television was running in the background showing them various trash shows. They had preferred that over watching Dave. Neither of them was too fond of watching their own show too often.

Jeremy sighed as he felt his stomach turn again. “James, mate,” he began after letting out a quiet burp. “If you ever ever again, in what is left of your life, think about taking me on a cheap date to eat hot dogs, I will not only leave you but murder you.”

“Understood,” James muttered and gave his shoulder a squeeze. Then a burp escaped James.

“The next time I hear you talk about eating hot dogs, it better be a metaphor,” Jeremy simply added. Soothingly he rubbed his hand across James' stomach. Funnily enough it calmed him again. “The next time I can think of your mouth without thinking about sick will take a couple of weeks.”

James laughed and nodded. He wasn't too far off, James mused. It had been a nice idea; taking Jeremy out on a simple date. Walking through the city, eating a few hot dogs and then going to the cinema. They had enjoyed it very much. Up until the point where, in the middle of the night, James had shot out of bed, running for the bathroom. Only to find that Jeremy was already hanging over the toilet and getting rid of the hot dogs in a rather controversial way. “Fuck off, May!” he had shouted, followed by death threats. Being very desperate, James had used the sink instead.

It didn't take long to figure out that they were suffering from food poisoning. Since Hammond was still cheery and fine, it had taken even less time to figure out that the hot dogs were to blame. It had taken Jeremy a second to conclude that all of this was May's fault.

“And you will need to eat my hot dog many times until I can forgive you for that,” Jeremy finished. James smiled weakly.

“If I have to,” he just muttered. Then he twisted his face and farted. Jeremy slapped his chest for it.

“Scumbag.”

James laughed and shook his head. Jeremy's hand was still running soothing circles across his chest.

“It's not like we're poor,” Jeremy went on complaining. “And it's not like we didn't have the money to eat out.”

“Should I take you the Ritz?” James asked casually. This wasn't the first time that Jeremy had complained about this.

“Don't say stupid things,” Jeremy huffed. Then he pulled one of his legs closer, hoping that would help against the stomach ache. “How about a place where the food won't come out in two different forms from two different ends.”

James sighed and rubbed along Jeremy's back. If complaining helped him, he'd let him. It wasn't as thought he didn't agree with that sentiment. His weak and pathetic excuse to say _I thought it would be nice_ sounded … well, weak and pathetic.

“What were those hot dogs even made off?” Jeremy went on. “Zebra meat?”

James laughed and shook his head. “I think that's illegal.”

Jeremy shifted his weight and dared to kiss James. “So is food poisoning,” he muttered. At least they had brushed their teeth.

“Am sorry for the hot dog date,” James added quietly.

“Thank you.” Jeremy rested his head back on his chest. “Now, we can blame the hot Zebra dogs together.”

James laughed and gave Jeremy's shoulder a squeeze. Then he farted again.

“Stop farting,” Jeremy muttered.

“You're no better.”


	48. Punch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fair warning: there is violence in this prompt. But it is no exactly explicit.

They were sitting in a small hotel bar in London and discussing the making of the new series. The shooting had gone well so far, even if they were a bit behind. That didn't matter a very much, they would still manage to be on time if there were no further delays. For now they were drinking beer and drifted to a discussion about which of the cars featured in the new series they would like to own in private. James had to be mocked because he already owned the older model of a Ferrari Clarkson had to review in the coming series. They always ended up there …

“Because I'm so modest, so I don't tell anyone I owe a Ferrari,” Hammond imitated James' voice which caused Jeremy to burst out laughing.

“Now wait, he's thinking that that's the reason he bought it in silver.”

James shook his head, that had been exactly what he had been thinking. Apart from the fact that he was bored of the idea that all Ferraris had to be red. “It's a good car,” James defended and nudged Jeremy's side.

“It is,” the other two agreed.

“If I hadn't gotten it in silver, they would have thought that I'm just a shit Ferrari bloke with his 20 silver rings, two too thin girlfriends, erection problems and no idea about cars.”

“Well, the thin girlfriend is out of the question,” Richard mocked. It took Jeremy a few moments but soon he began to laugh out loud.

“I'm also --”

“Clarkson! Watch it!” James pointed a finger at him.

Jeremy just managed to keep the laughter back. “I was about to say that I'm not so sure you really know stuff about cars,” Jeremy added and leaned against James slightly.

“Yeah, yeah. And you do?”

“I do!” Clarkson protested in a high pitched voice.

Nobody seemed to be interested in them. This was good. The reason they were staying in a hotel bar was Hammond. He had to go abroad for the next series and would take a flight in the early hours of the next day, which was the reason why he had to stay at a hotel. To make it easier they had met up for a pint. And one pint had turned into many more. And now that Jeremy checked his watch, it was almost midnight.

“Right,” he muttered and told James. “I'm going for a piss, then we can go.”

James nodded, his eyes heavy, largely due to the beer, but his tiredness was also beginning to show.

Jeremy detaching himself, letting his hand linger on James' back. He then leant forward and kissed him briefly on the lips. “Will be right back,” he muttered and swayed a little while walking away.

James bit his lip and smiled weakly at Richard. He couldn't recall a time when Jeremy had kissed him in front of Richard, especially not in public.

“Don't worry,” Richard muttered and looked around the empty bar. Then he picked up where they had left off, but this time they were mocking Jeremy's car.

 

* * *

 

While Jeremy was washing his hands, the door opened and a man walked in. Jeremy was bit too drunk to truly note his outfit or facial features. However, the man seemed to note Jeremy. _Most likely from television_ , he thought and nodded at him.

“How is it going, mate?” he tried and quickly dried his hands off.

Somehow this man worried him. Normally he wouldn't be concerned about another man at the loo. But the other man hadn't moved away from the door yet, he hadn't said a word, and this made Jeremy careful.

“Mind if I …?” he asked as he was about to walk past him. _Better get out of here,_ he thought. But then he felt a hand on his arm stopping him.

“We don't welcome your … kind here,” Jeremy heard his voice. He stopped and with a tug managed to free his arm. He stepped back to get some distance between them.

“My kind? Bald, fat? Old? Be more specific,” he heard himself say before he could stop. _Shut up, Clarkson! Just get away!_

“I saw what you did out there.”

Jeremy's eyes widened for a moment and he swallowed hard. This was bad. It was even worse that he was alone when being confronted about it. Now he also noticed for the that the man was taller than he was. He was just a little bit taller, but also wore a dark beard and a menacing expression.

“Listen, we were just about to leave anyway,” Jeremy tried, reason finally returning to him.

It was no good, he noticed too late. The man stepped closer and Jeremy was left with no other choice took a step back. That's when he hit the wall.

“You don't tell me when to listen,” he heard the other man sneer.

Jeremy nodded. “You don't want us around, we wanted to leave, so just let me go outside and ...” he stopped, it really was no good. No matter what he said it, only made his opponent more angry. He was in big trouble, Jeremy realized.

The brute took another step was towards him, and this time – with no other choice – Jeremy faced him, he standing up straight. He didn't want to let him know that he was quite scared.

Then he had an idea. He could call May or Hammond, both were on his speed dial. He tried to reach into his pocket. But he wasn't fast enough before he felt a fist impact with the left side of his face.

Jeremy felt a dull pain directly above his eyes which made him lose balance. After that, he couldn't recall anything else.

 


	49. X-Ray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deals with the mess I created one prompt earlier.

James was still pacing in front of the X-Ray room. He hated the fact that he hadn't been allowed in, just hated it. He wanted to be with Jeremy, wanted to make sure his partner wasn't alone and stayed calm.

No one was allowed in the room, and James knew that, but he couldn't have gone with Jeremy in any case. He wasn't Jeremy's proxy or next of kin; just a co-worker, a mere friend in the world's eyes.

“Stop pacing. Sit down,” Richard complained, the constant pacing was driving him mad. “He’ll be fine. He’s done more stupid things to himself.”

James answered with a sigh. He couldn't sit down, but managed to slow his pacing a little bit. “I know.”

“Coffee?” Richard offered.

“Yeah.”

“Right-o.” Hammond got on his feet and offered his chair to James, but the other man was stubborn. If Richard hadn't known that James was averse to touch, he would have pushed him into the chair in order to force him to sit still. “Two coffees coming right up.”

While Richard was getting coffee James was still pacing relentlessly. If only they were here because of another stupid thing Jeremy had done. Then it would be easy. But instead they had to X-Ray Clarkson’s head (“To check if anything is in it,” James had joked as he explained it to a dazed Jeremy.), and his arm which was most likely broken. Things were bad, they really were. He still remembered the fear he had felt when Richard and him had gone to look for Jeremy and found him bleeding on the bathroom floor.

 _We should have been more careful_ , James told himself. If they had been Jeremy wouldn’t need those X-Rays right now.

“Don’t do that.” He turned at the sound of the voice and saw Richard standing behind him, two cups of watery coffee in his hands.

“What?”

“I know that face. You’re over-thinking. And I know what you’re over-thinking.” Richard handed him a cup. “It wasn’t your fault. Neither was it his.”

“He looked awful” James simply muttered as he finally took a seat next to Hammond.

Jeremy had indeed looked awful. James had gone to the loo of the hotel bar to figure out what had happened. Maybe he had gotten sick because of one too many beers. Nothing could have prepared him for the vision of Jeremy leaning against a wall, an ugly cut above his eye, bruises already forming on the side of his face. What had frightened James the most had been that Jeremy's eyes didn’t seem to focus on anything.

James' mind had never switched into autopilot that quickly. In the blink of an eye, he had been at Jeremy’s side, noticing the broken arm and filing it away. He texted Richard who was just outside at the bar. James had pulled Jeremy against his chest, giving him as much comfort as he could.

“What happened?” James had tried to get some information of him, noticing that Jeremy began to choke on the steadily falling tears.

“It wasn’t my fault.”

“I know. I know,” James had tried to comfort.

“It wasn’t my fault,” he had repeated again, and James had wondered if he hadn’t caused more damage with the question. James had tried to hush Jeremy again, softly kissing the top of his head.

“Jesus, what happened?” James had heard Richard's voice as he had come closer. At first Jeremy had flinched away but then he seemed to notice that it was just Richard and calmed again.

James had shook his head, they didn't really know what to do. They couldn't call an ambulance, that would cause too much of a fuss. Then the media would hear of it, and that would only make things only worse.

“He just beat me, I couldn't ...” Then Jeremy had begun to sob again and hid in James' chest.

“Who? Why?” Richard had asked quickly, he gently rested an arm on Jeremy's shoulder, trying to keep him still.

“He saw …”

“What?” Unlike Richard, James knew. He just knew, and it upset him that these things still happened. Here! In London!

“Us” James had stated and gave Jeremy a tight squeeze. Richard's eyes had been sad, wandering between the two men. They had stayed like that for a while, Jeremy slowly recovering from the shock, or at least until he was well enough to stop crying. Afterwards, they had managed to use the back door to leave and had driven to the hospital. There they had explained the matter, which left Richard and James where they were now.

It took half an hour until they told James and Richard it was okay to visit. Hammond let James go first; he wanted to give the two of them some time alone.

 

* * *

 

James gently knocked at the door and stepped into the room. “Jezza?” he asked quietly, not knowing if he was awake.

The body in the bed shifted a little bit and Jeremy lazily lifted his arm to greet him.

“Hey.” James stepped closer and grabbed a chair, sitting down next to him. He just about managed to stop himself from asking how Jeremy was feeling. His partner looked better than he had before. They had cleaned off the blood and it turned out that it had only been a minor cut above the eyebrow. It was sown together with two stitches. _But it had bled so horribly_ , James remembered and took Jeremy's hand. The other arm had been put into a caste. _Broken after all_ , James thought but that didn't surprise him at all.

James had to let the silence stretch, he didn't know what to say. Everything seemed to die on his lips because it sounded wrong.

“Are you all right?” James heard Jeremy's croaked voice, his eyes were slightly open.

“What?”

“Are you all right?” he repeated and gave his hand a squeeze.

James let out a weak laugh. “Shouldn't I be the one asking that?”

“But you're not. So I did.”

James shrugged his shoulders, he didn't know. He hated this, all of this. He hated that it had happened. Even more why it had happened. But there was nothing they could do.

“I feel like shit, by the way.” Jeremy cut through his thoughts. James looked up again and saw a weak smile on Jeremy's face.

“You look like it too.”

“Thanks. I knew there was reason to love you.”

James smiled weakly while looking at their joined hands. Only a short time had passed since the words “I love you” first passed their lips with such ease.

“This reminds me …” Jeremy began and shifted a little, he let out a groan while doing so. “Can you hand me some water?”

James nodded, and helped Jeremy take small sips. When some dropped down his chin, he gently wiped it away. “Was that it?”

“No.” There was a pause in which Jeremy settled again and let out a breath. “I actually should have asked this when I got divorced, or after we got together. I sort of forgot.”

“Okay?”

“Well, I wanted to ask if you were willing to be my proxy.” Jeremy's voice flattened a little bit. This way James would have access to Jeremy even when the man himself couldn't give the okay. Had the pillock knocked Jeremy out James would still be sitting on a plastic chair outside. “It's already settled, I mean, I'd just need your sign---”

“Sure.”

“Good.” Small smiles played on both their lips. Then James bent forward and kissed him gently. “Careful.” James kissed him again, just as sweetly as before.

Half an hour later Richard walked into the small hospital room. He could see Jeremy was fast asleep, their joined hands resting by his side. James was in his seat, slumped forward, his head resting on the height of Jeremy's stomach, and he was asleep as well.

Richard smiled and grabbed one of the spare blankets and gently placed it onto James' shoulders.

 


	50. Ice

“Ouch. Watch it,” Jeremy muttered as he flinched away from James' touch.

“I'm trying, you're not making things easy. Hold still,” the other man complained, trying to apply a new patch to the cut of Clarkson’s face.

Despite the stitches, they thought it wise to keep a patch on top of it, even if they had to renew it almost every day. However, the smallest touch made Jeremy flinch away because of the swollen eye and bruised face. After the night they had kept him in – to make sure that there was no brain damage – it had begun to worsen.

“I can't if you keep … abusing me with your enormous hands,” Jeremy complained and James let the comment pass.

He could understand the frustration.

They had had to inform Andy, which had led to a delay in shooting for the new _Top Gear_ series, even though it was late anyway. Since they had left hospital, Jeremy had kept a close eye on the newspapers, wondering if the arsehole had ratted their relationship out.

This was just the tip of the ice berg: the first day they had been home Jeremy had spent most of the time sleeping or lying down because he had been dizzy. He didn't want to go outside as long as his face was looking like it did. He couldn't lie on his left side, both due to his broken arm and the considerable bruising on his abdomen. This caused a couple of new problems: he wasn't allowed to drive, so James had to get everything (James didn't mind), and some simple tasks were ridiculously hard: dressing, showering, even just peeing had turned into a challenge.

Soon Jeremy had lost his nerves and snapped at the smallest things, often James' inability at doing something. It didn't get worse than a mean comment here and there so James let it slide.

“Right, seen your own hands before?” he replied quietly and simply stuck the plaster on the cut, no matter what protest would come. “There.”

Jeremy huffed and shifted a little.

The only time Jeremy really had snapped had been on the third day home. Barely able to roam the flat without having to use any support, he wasn't used to the broken arm yet. He had thought that he could use it just as easily as the healthy one and tried to get a cup from the higher cupboard. Since he had had no grip, it had crashed loudly on the floor. Even then, Jeremy had only snapped when James had asked him to sit down and let him clean up the mess. At first he was screaming that he didn't need James' help, he was a grown man after all. Soon he lost his reasoning and shouted about the entire shitty situation.

It hadn't hurt James, it really hadn't. He knew that Jeremy wasn't angry at him, but at the situation. However, it had scared him. Despite what the world seemed to believe Jeremy rarely shouted at people. Yes, he raised his voice, was loud and obnoxious. But shouting? No.

Sighing James got up from the bed in which Jeremy was lying and went into the kitchen. That had happened yesterday, he recalled. Going through Jeremy's freezer, he found what he was looking for.

After the hospital had released Jeremy, they had to answer the question at whose place they'd stay. Officially, Jeremy could be left alone but neither really wanted to. In the end they picked Jeremy's London flat. Chipping Norton was too far away at the time, they needed to stay in contact with the police and James thought it would be a good idea if Jeremy recovered in surroundings he was familiar with.

James took the fresh ice out of the freezer and put it into a plastic bag, which he put into a towel. It was too chunky so James began to crush it. They had discovered that it helped keep the bruising down, or at the very least dulled the pain without making it worse. That was good enough.

Then he made his way back into Jeremy's bedroom. Despite the shouting yesterday James had slept in the same bed. Jeremy had requested it. Maybe he had been sorry, James wasn't sure.

All that James had seen that Jeremy didn't want to be alone and he could understand that. He had noticed from Jeremy's behaviour that he was brooding over the matter. He had become quiet, his mind seemed to wander more often, and at night, when James only wanted to go to the kitchen to eat a bite, he had heard a quiet voice, not very Clarkson like, asking “You're going to stay the night, right?”

“Sure,” James had answered without thinking about.

“I mean, here, in bed.”

This had made James turn around. He had stayed the nights prior too. “Yeah, sure,” James had replied softly.

 

* * *

 

James gently knocked on the door frame to announce his arrival again. “Ice,” he explained, lifting the makeshift bag. Again he sat at the edge of the bed, gently running his hand through Jeremy's curls before he placed the bag carefully over the bruising above his eye.

“Thank you,” Jeremy muttered quietly, eyes closed. He let out a long breath and James noticed that his body relaxed a bit.

“How is everything?” James asked after a while, and re-positioned the ice.

“Shit,” came back promptly. “Well, less shit. But still shit,” Jeremy added quietly.

James just nodded, not really knowing what to say. Jeremy looked a little better, there was that. However, he didn't look good. Jeremy would know what to say, he somehow always managed it. He had the right words, could make a bad joke, and then there was his incurable belief that a touch could solve everything.

James had let out a sigh without realising and gently placed the ice on a different bruise.

“You know,” he heard Jeremy begin. His eyes had opened slightly. “I'm sorry for yesterday.”

James piped up and frowned. “What?”

“For shouting.”

James shook his head. He knew why Jeremy apologised, he was just surprised that he did it at all. He hadn't expected it.

“I … you don't have to,” James explained quietly. “I understand.”

“I know,” Jeremy muttered. “But I want to. And I know that I scared you.”

James bit his lip. “Yes,” he just replied, feeling fidgety.

“I truly am sorry,” he heard Jeremy's voice. He was sincere.

James let out another sigh and took the ice away from Jeremy's face. “I …” the thought died on his lips. The silence stretched while James considered what to say next, and Jeremy let it happen.

“Listen, I know that you weren't angry at me.”

“I wasn't.”

“Good, and that you just needed to shout. You are you, after all. And that you didn't mean to sca--”

“But I did?”

“Yes.”

There was a pause. Then James felt a warm hand on his thigh. He smiled softly; it was just like Jeremy to believe that a simply touch can cure everything. Briefly he wondered where that belief came from, but then again he had always been like this. What an odd couple they were …

“Jezza?”

“Hmm?” James took Jeremy's hand in his and gently gave it a kiss.

“Forget about it, it's forgiven.”

“Thank you,” Jeremy replied softly, warm eyes following James' ministration on his hand. In the end he held it between his own, resting on his lap.

Soon Jeremy fell asleep again, only to be woken up by James' voice. “All right, thank you. I'll tell him.”

Jeremy turned half dazed, he wincing when he remembered that it was the wrong side and nudged James with his knee.

“Who was it?” he asked sleepily as James put the phone aside.

“Police. Lawyer.” At those words Jeremy piped up. That caught his attention perfectly. “They found the arsehole who beat you up.”

“Right.”

“We're offering him a deal. He keeps quiet on why he beat you up and we don't sue the hell out of him,” James explained with a weak smile on his face. “He caused too much bodily harm so we can't really forgo reporting him. However, part of the deal would be gagging him as well. The police is willing to anonymise everything; make it inaccessible to the public etcetera etcetera”

If it would have been only James' choice, he would have sued everything off that arse and told the media to fuck themselves. However, Jeremy valued their privacy, maybe because he knew what a mess the media would make of it … James did too if he was honest, but he didn't want to think rationally. It was frustrating.

“Okay,” Jeremy replied, considering.

“Okay you understood? Or okay you agree?”

“Both,” he explained softly. “Not much of a choice anyway. And I doubt we would get much if we sued for money anyway.”

James merely shrugged his shoulders in reply.

 


	51. Shatter

Jeremy hadn’t thought that the event of the past months would cause any more problems. Still he found himself in Guildford in the studio being shouted at by James. He couldn’t even deny any of the screamed accusations James was throwing at him.

They had been rehearsing, which had gone fine. Afterwards Jeremy had made a joke at James’ expense. That was when he had snapped.

“You think that’s funny?” he had asked and Jeremy – being as short-sighted as he was - hadn’t noticed the signs.

“Relax, it was just a joke.”

“Yeah, always the butt of the joke,” James had snapped at him. That was the first time Jeremy had turned around and looked at James.

“What’s wrong with you?” he had asked genuinely concerned.

But Jeremy's question came too late. James exploded; accusing him of going the extra mile and kept on mocking him. He seemed to get rid of all the anger and frustration he had kept to himself over the last months; no longer bothering to hide all the shit he had piled up within.

And Jeremy? Jeremy just let it happen, he let James shout at him as long as he wanted.

Richard was standing off to the side, trying to sort things out. But James only concentrated on Jeremy, ignoring the smaller man.

“So what? You suddenly hate it?! You always boast about how great you are. _Oh and I had sex in that building!”_ he imitated Jeremy's voice. “But when it comes to me you’re suddenly too embarrassed. Can’t admit that you take it up the arse.”

Jeremy bit his lip, shifted his weight, but said nothing and let James continue.

“Won’t even let me touch you any longer when people are around. And don’t give me that crap that the media would make shit out of it. Damn right they would, but you fucking idiot also know that I’m not talking about that.”

Jeremy could only look at his shoes. James was right, of course.

“You’re such an idiot! Do you even want this any longer? You didn’t even manage to tell me that you love me any more! And I don’t think you do!”

That made Clarkson crumble. He hadn't told James for a while now, but he still felt that way, and the thought of losing James now was hurting him terribly. He couldn't just lose him because of a stupid joke.

“You really are an arse! Just fuck you!”

Silence fell for the first time.

Jeremy looked up, but didn’t say a word. He couldn't. He didn't know … In response, James just turned and walked out of the hangar.

“Jesus,” Richard muttered when the door slammed shut, leaving a horrible echo in the empty hangar. Jeremy shrugged his shoulders. _Who would have thought that making fun of James’ cooking could end like that_ , Richard thought to himself, but didn't say it out loud.

“Are you all right?” he asked instead, stepping closer to Jeremy.

There was a moment in which the other man seemed to ponder on his answer. “He isn’t wrong.”

“What? That you take it up the arse sometimes? I had sort of figured that,” Richard joked and luckily he got a response from Jeremy: a weak smile which fell too quickly. “Come on, sit down.”

He tried to guide Jeremy to the steps of the platform holding their chairs. They sat down and Richard waited with his question until Jeremy seemed ready to talk. “So, he isn't wrong about what?”

Jeremy shrugged his shoulders. “All of it.”

There was another pause in which the other man seemed to collect his thoughts.

“I haven’t told him since … I haven’t told him that I love him,” Jeremy admitted quietly.

“But you do, right?” God, Richard hoped that he still did. He couldn't even imagine the consequences for the show or, even worse, for their friendship, if Jeremy replied in the negative now.

“Of course I do.”

Richard nodded, relieved. “You said ‘you haven’t told him since’, since when?”

At that Jeremy looked away to he ground, and clenched his fists. “Since I got beaten up.”

Hammond nodded in understanding. Neither James nor Jeremy had confirmed that the public kiss had been the reason for Jeremy getting beaten up, but Richard had never doubted it either. At the time when they had found Jeremy on the floor, broken and bleeding, James' reinterpretation of his words was the only thing that Richard had been told.

It was natural that there should be a brief setback afterwards. But Richard had thought that the physical and mental wounds had healed by now, that everything had been fixed. Apparently he was wrong.

“Why?”

Jeremy just shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. I really don’t. I’ve fucked it all up so badly.”

“No, wait. Take a step back. You didn’t fuck it _all_ up,” Richard tried to advise him.

“Yes, I did,” Jeremy replied. “That night, we kissed. In public, well, semi-public. And that bloke saw, and he beat me up. So I thought we’d better be careful about that too. And then it sort of … went wrong.”

Hammond waited for him to continue.

“I thought he’d be fine with that.”

“Did you talk to him about it?”

The silence was pretty much all the answer that Richard needed. No, he hadn't.

“I didn’t even realize that it … that it was bothering him this much. I’m not ashamed of being with him. I love him.”

Richard smiled weakly, gently laying a hand on Jeremy's knee for a moment. “Then tell him.”

“That won’t fix it all, we’re not a rom-com,” Jeremy snorted, discouraged.

“Gay rom-com,” Richard corrected. Jeremy rolled his eyes. “What? I always wanted to make a gay joke on your cost.”

“Fair enough.”

“Go on, mate. Tell him. I’m sure he’ll understand more of what’s going on in your head. And what’s going on in general. I couldn't even make sense of half the things he shouted at you,” Richard urged him.

Jeremy let out a breath and nodded. “Right,” he muttered and got to his feet.

 

* * *

 

Jeremy first turned towards the car park. James' little Panda was sitting in its spot, meaning that James must still be around somewhere.

Jeremy rounded the building and found him standing at their unofficial smoking spot. His back was turned and Jeremy sighed. This was the same place where they had kissed for the first time. It would be unbearable irony if their relationship were to break on the exact same space.

“I thought you’re trying to quit,” Jeremy muttered as he walked closer and saw that James was fumbling with his lighter.

“Don’t have any fags anyway,” James replied. “And it’s not like quitting is a success. Always works for a few months, and then I start smoking all over again.”

Jeremy nodded. It was always like that, no matter which of the three tried to quit. One of them would smoke regularly again, and pull the other back with him.

James stuffed the lighter back in his pocket and turned to face Jeremy. The anger was gone from his face, and he now just looked sorrowful, probably mirroring Jeremy's own expression. _What have we gotten ourselves into?_

“I’m sorry,” Jeremy began.

James’ shoulders dropped and he looked at him. “Don’t be. I did the screaming and shouting.”

There was another moment of silence, where the two of them simply looked at each other. This was where they found themselves at a roadblock. Neither of them was any good at this. When things went smoothly it was absolutely no issue. And when they didn’t … they would find themselves at a lack of words.

“How about, we’re both sorry?” Jeremy suggested with a small smile on his lips.

James just nodded, agreeing to that.

A few moments passed, then Jeremy began to speak again. “You were right.”

James nodded, he knew that. He had been sorry for the tone, but not for the content of his argument.

“You were also wrong.”

“Was I?” James asked, his voice dry.

“Yeah, for one, I still love you.” Jeremy began to count with his fingers. “Second, I’m not embarrassed about us being a couple. Third, I never actually had sex in that house. Forth, I do enjoy your cooking. Most of the time.”

James smiled weakly and nodded. “All right,” he muttered.

Jeremy knew that this simple explanation didn’t fix anything. There had to be more, they would need to do more. Otherwise their relationship was just a ticking time bomb.

“You know what bothers me?” James asked and Jeremy shook his head. “You’re usually so open when it comes to touching, you still are when we’re alone. You're even more reserved than you were before we got together. If you aren't embarrassed, then why would you do that?”

Jeremy bit his lip, he wished he could just shrug his shoulders and leave it at that. But that wouldn't be good enough, not now. “I just wanted to be more careful.”

“Around our friends? Around Hammond?” James asked, and Jeremy’s face dropped.

“I know …” Jeremy sighed, and again the silence stretched between them, marking the loss of words that happened so rarely between them.

James stuffed his hands into his pockets and waited, he wasn't sure what to expect. Soon his fingers found the lighter again, he took it out and began to play with it.

“The last time,” Jeremy began after a seemingly endless pause, “the last time I kissed you in a hotel bar. It was just in front of Hammond. Or at least I thought so, and then …”

James looked at his feet, _and then you got beaten up._ He knew that this had left more than physical wounds on Jeremy. He had noticed it during the first weeks after the bruising had died down. Jeremy had often tried to suppress a flinch when James touched his face.

“I thought you were embarrassed,” James admitted quietly, letting out a sigh. “It was frustrating. Even … Even when I knew you were healing. We couldn't do anything against that arse because of … everything. I was … I was angry. And I was frustrated. And you were just left with …” James cut himself off.

Jeremy just nodded, and stared off into the distance. After his arm had been put out of the caste, he had been more careful while cuddling. He had become more shy. James had been patient, understanding. But they – being them – never talked about it. After about a month, things had gone back to normal, no more suppressed flinching, and Jeremy had gone back to touching James casually. At least when they were in private, but only ever in private.

Some quiet moments later, both men found themselves sitting on the ground, leaning against the hanger. Their shoulders were touching, and James was still playing with the lighter.

“What else is there?” Jeremy asked to break the silence.

“That you haven't told me you love me since … the thing,” James admitted quietly. It sounded pathetic now that he knew Jeremy's reasoning for being so distant.

Soon, Jeremy's hand covered his, removing the lighter from his fingers. The brief contact made James smile, it was nice

“I can't tell you why I haven't said it,” James heard Jeremy's admission, accompanied by the soft clicks of the lighter. “I guess … I guess I thought it was obvious from the way that I acted.” Jeremy let out a weak laugh, closing the lighter. “Which – as it turns out – was pretty shit.”

This time it was James turn to nod. “I still love you,” he muttered.

“And I love you. Still.”

“That is good,” James said, and Jeremy agreed.

He handed the lighter over to James again. “Maybe … I just need to get comfortable again.”

“Yeah,” James agreed. “I should have seen it.”

“Don't worry about that, no harm done.” Jeremy gently pressed his shoulder against James'. But he was wrong, something bad had happened. The guilt he had felt when James had shouted at him, the fear he had experienced when he had thought he would lose James, all of that wouldn't go away very quickly.

James silently packed his lighter away. Then he felt Jeremy dig his head into his shoulder and smiled at that. _They would be fine again,_ he told himself, hoping that it was true.

“Anything else?” Jeremy mumbled into his shoulder.

“That you won't admit that you take it up the arse,” James stated flatly and let his head fall onto Jeremy's.

Jeremy laughed quickly and nodded. “Fine,” he muttered. He detached from James, who was momentarily worried that he had gone too far. The fear was for naught, Jeremy just straightened and then shouted out into the open air field, “Yes, I let James May fuck me in the arse!”

This left James laughing happily. Jeremy loved seeing him laugh like that, he loved making anyone laugh, but especially James. He wrapped an arm around the other man and kissed the top of his head.

“I think on average you take it up more often.”

“I wouldn't be so sure,” James muttered into Jeremy's chest. “We could draw up a ---”

“No!” Jeremy protested. “We won't make a chart of who gets fucked more often. Also, how would we count other … things?”

James just shook his head, he looked up at Jeremy and kissed him for a moment. Just to test things out. And yes, it was still save and steady ground.

“Did you really just shout that?” they heard Richard's voice. They broke apart and turned, seeing him silhouetted against the sun.

“Shouted what?” James asked frowning. He wanted to keep a straight face, but Clarkson betrayed his cunning plan. Jeremy started laughing, and it was a happy laugh.

“You are children. Both of you, old fat gay children,” Richard bickered, but he had never been so glad to see them acting like children again.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Everything good again?” Richard asked after the laughter had died down.

“Wait, we can test that,” Jeremy offered. His hand slipped under James' chin, tilted it up, and soon he felt James' lips on his. They were kissing, softly, shyly, but it lasted longer than their previous kiss. “Yes, I'd say we are.”

“Agreed,” James muttered.

They didn't see it, but Richard smiled. And then he acted as though he'd throw up.

 


	52. Tack

Sitting side by side on the sofa, they realized that they had to talk. Their fight had happened only a few days ago, and they hadn't mentioned it again. But that wasn't enough. They could still feel a shadow looming over them, but there seemed to be a silent agreement that they wouldn't talk about that either.

Jeremy broke the agreement. He let out a sigh. “This isn't as easy as we thought,” he muttered.

James nodded. “I know,” he admitted quietly, fixing his gaze onto his beer bottle.

They had thought that their relationship would be similar to their friendship, just with the addition of sex, but that wasn't the case. There were small additional issues, solved easily – telling their family and friends. Then there were bigger problems, like the media, but that had been discussed before they had gotten involved. But what they hadn't seen coming were their own emotions.

James had first believed that the change had happened when they told each other _I love you_. But that wasn't true either. Their relationship didn't resemble a normal friendship when they didn't have sex. It was romantic, and a connection that went beyond their still-existing friendship. The change had come over time, had maybe happened before they got together.

Their relationship was difficult to explain; there were so many different sides to it. They had formed an unbelievably strong bond, which intertwined deeply, at the very core of their being. But somehow it had become fragile, threatening to break under pressure.

Jeremy let out a sigh. “I don't … I want this to work,” he muttered, knowing that he was crossing an invisible line.

“Me too,” James replied after a while. It was undeniable that they had some issues. James had screamed and shouted at Jeremy only a few days ago. Hardly a handful of months ago they had shouted at each other and James had thought Jeremy had left him. Really left him. Ended their relationship.

They hadn't talked about that either. It wasn't forgotten, they just … ignored it. Because all was fine now, so why talk about it?

Except that it wasn't. This wasn't easy. And they were two men who were both having trouble expressing themselves, for different reasons.

“I don't want to lose you,” James admitted, the beer still occupying his vision. James was a very private and guarded man, preferring to be alone to deal while dealing with his emotions. Jeremy knew as much and let him be. Jeremy wasn't so different, he tended to brood on a topic and involuntarily keep a distance.

“So what do we do?” Jeremy asked quietly.

James shrugged his shoulders, he didn't know either. “Ask someone who knows?” he suggested.

“Like marriage consulting?” Jeremy snorted. Their relationship wasn't that bad. Indeed, it was very fulfilling. However, there was just so much hidden under the surface and in moments of weakness and doubt – of which there had been many lately – they became unsure of what they usually knew.

James shook his head, looking at Jeremy for the first time since the start of the discussion. His eyes were warm and unguarded, but his face showed his fear. He was afraid that maybe they weren't meant to be. “You talked to Hammond?”

“Yes ...” Jeremy knew what he was referring to.

“Do you think he and Mindy ...” James didn't finish the sentence. He knew that Jeremy would get the idea.

The Hammonds had been married for years, they had a happy marriage, children and they worked even in high pressure situations - these were the situations in which May and Clarkson didn't work. They had broken in Bolivia, had broken soon after the stress of Jeremy getting beaten up. They never wanted wanted that to happen again.

“Maybe.” Jeremy was just a little bit sceptical. All of Hammond's jokes about their relationship aside, it was obvious that he truly cared for them. “I want this to work.”

“So do I.” James covered Jeremy's hand with his.

 

* * *

 

James had called Hammond, he had stumbling hopelessly over the words. That things weren't as easy as they had hoped. Richard didn't even tease them, he had merely said that they could come over for the weekend. Afterwards James had gone to the bedroom, finding Jeremy already in bed, eyes closed and trying to sleep.

James watched him and sighed. He knew that he loved the man. Quietly he crawled into bed next to him. He wrapped his arms around Jeremy, letting him rest against his chest. He knew that Jeremy needed that. Jeremy wrapped his arm around James and kissed the place where his head was lying.

“Hammond says we can come over tomorrow,” James explained quietly.

Jeremy just replied with a sleepy nod.

“I love you, Jeremy,” he muttered, feeling a need to tell him.

Jeremy opened his eyes and looked up at him. “I love you too.” Both of them meant it.

Their relationship wasn't broken; it might work for a few more years even if they didn't change anything, so long as nothing bad happened along the way. However, would things be kept the way they were now, it would break eventually. They hadn't thought that this might ever be a problem. Of course neither of them wanted their relationship to end, they just didn't have any idea how to work around their problems.

 

* * *

 

The thought of driving to Hammond's house for counselling seemed to warrant joking about, seemed to call for statements about how ridiculous and stupid this was, and for jokes about Hammond's size.

But there was silence in their car. It wasn't a comfortable silence … - they both knew that this was important and shouldn't be treated as a joke. _When had all of this become so serious?_ Jeremy wondered as he watched the scenery go by, since James was driving

“Saturday traffic is light,” James muttered. James tried to make conversation as he overtook the next car.

“Yeah,” Jeremy just replied quietly. He was scared. Scared that they would figure out that they just weren't meant like that. Scared that after all these years it wouldn't work out. Scared that their relationship was carrying a termination date. He let out a sigh. Then he felt a warm hand in his. Looking down at his lap, he could see that James' hand had sneaked in his.

“Thank you,” Jeremy muttered, knowing what James was doing. Why didn't it always work like that? Why did they shout at each other instead? Why did they think that they would break up with each other? Why … it just wasn't easy. It wasn't … how could they have ever thought that it would be?

Their situation wasn't ideal for a relationship in the first place. There was always so little time, even though they worked together and saw each other more often that way. Jeremy put everything into his job, and he had his children. If they wouldn't work together, it might never have happened in the first place. There was so little time … and that seemed to have become a problem. When they clashed, they clashed badly, leaving damage …

James pulled up in front of the house, put the car into park and looked at Jeremy. “Ready?” he asked. Jeremy nodded in reply.

 

* * *

 

At first things were very awkward. Neither men was very good with expressing emotions. Mindy had offered them beer, and they were sipping on their first bottle. Jeremy had no idea what would happen. If he was honest, he didn't want to talk to Hammond about his feelings for May. That … that just couldn't happen.

“You are here because ...” Mindy began to approach the topic carefully. Of course she knew why they were here, but she wanted to get them started with an easy question.

Jeremy cleared his throat, this time he was the one who looked at the beer bottle. “We have some problems.”

Mindy nodded, she knew what they were talking about. After their second clash, Richard had begun to worry as well and opened up to her.

“It's not cheating or anything,” Jeremy quickly added. “We just … I don't know.”

“We don't seem to work under stress,” James explained instead. He knew that Jeremy had trouble when it came to expressing emotions. On print he was doing fine, he could rethink and rephrase, find the perfect words. However, the unprepared spoken word was a lost art. That's where James was better.

“But it's always stressful,” Richard stated.

“No, that sort of stress is fine. Just the … really bad bits,” James failed to explain. Maybe that art was lost on him, too.

Jeremy let out a sigh and put his beer aside. “Everything we were used to before we were together works fine. However now, when we fight, we really fight. We don't just banter. It's bad. Very bad.” He paused for a moment, trying to find the right words. “We had such fallouts twice, both within this year.”

Richard nodded, he had been present at both.

“The first one we were all stressed - emotionally raw, and pissed at everything. We shouted at each other and it ended with James believing that I had left him.” At that, James bit his lip, taking a deep breath as Jeremy continued. “I would never do that! And I … I can't let this happen again. We can't just fight, one of use storming off – which is bound to happen – and the other believing that that was it. We should know better. But we don't.”

There was a stretch of silence. Jeremy waited, wondering if anyone would say anything. However, nobody seemed to be willing to talk. Hence, Jeremy went on. He rubbed his face and remembered their fight in the hanger last week. “Then I get beaten up, and … we … and it goes wrong again.”

James suddenly found his own feet very interesting. After hearing all of Jeremy's reasons he felt so stupid for shouting at him.

“I ...” Jeremy began again fumbling for words. “I haven't actually talked to anyone about what had happened. Not even with James.”

Then James looked up, and saw Jeremy look at anything but any of their faces. His eyes held a sadness that James hadn't seen before.

“ … At the very least I should have talked to James,” Jeremy muttered.

“I didn't want to force you,” James replied quietly. He would have listened. He had thought that the wounds had healed. That Jeremy had dealt with it himself, that it hadn't been this bad.

“I know. I … I wanted to. But I didn't.” That was the only response Jeremy was able to give.

“Why didn't you?” Mindy asked carefully, she wasn't unfamiliar with Jeremy getting beaten up of course.

Jeremy shrugged his shoulders. He knew that James would have listened. That he would have been there. James had been there for him: he had acted like he hadn't noticed Jeremy flinching, he had made sure that there was always some ice in the fridge. He even made sure to ask for permission before cuddling, something Jeremy had used to do at the beginning of their relationship, before he had learnt to read James and just know when it was okay to do so.

“I think ...” Jeremy began again. “I think because it would have meant admitting that it had affected me more than I liked.”

James knew that Jeremy was a man very much in balance with himself, he knew himself inside out, even the unpleasant sides. Jeremy acknowledged that those were there, he acknowledged that certain feelings were there. This way he was at ease with himself, kept himself steady. However, denying a part of himself would throw him off balance. Which was what had happened …

James closed his eyes and took Jeremy's hand in his. He didn't even hesitate, if only he had known that prior … He didn't ask why Jeremy hadn't told him that a few months back. He would have accepted that easily, would have known that there was more damage than he could see.

“People get beaten up all the time.” Jeremy huffed out some air, and tried to pass this as a joke. “It's not that dramatic.”

“That was different,” James explained. “You know that. It's not only about the fact that you got beaten up, is it? It's about why you got beaten up.”

Again, a silence stretched. It seemed to last an eternity, then Jeremy replied with a simple nod.

“It just can't be that we … that … that a simple word makes us break just when we're raw,” Jeremy muttered after a while. He hated the silence.

James nodded. “But … we don't know how. We will fight. It's bound to happen.” Jeremy agreed, they had banters, and they hurt nobody. “Why is it that we stop … that I stop knowing what Jeremy feels for me when we … when we have a fallout like that?”

“I guess that's why we are here,” Jeremy explained, his voice steady again. After all this wasn't as personal as the prior conversation. “We don't know how to fix that.”

Mindy and Richard shared a look while the two other men just waited, hoping that there was solution to all of this.

“You aren't really talking about emotions are you?” Richard asked.

“No,” both admitted. They left a lot unspoken, knowing that the other knew what they wanted to say. “We're not very good at that.”

Jeremy took a breath, like he wanted to add something to that, but decided not to do so at the moment.

“But you know how you feel about each other?” Mindy asked carefully.

“Yes,” they replied without a moment of hesitation.

James smirked and bit back a comment, one that may have not been very suitable in the situation. Jeremy noticed him doing that and winked at him. James mouthed the words “old cock.” Maybe not nice words, but for them they worked.

“Unless you two have a bad fight.” At that comment the smiles fell. They both knew that this was true as well. In these moments, doubt seemed to creep into their minds.

“We're just not good with … talking.” Jeremy defended themselves. “I can't just tell him …” Jeremy broke off because he really couldn't.

“What about writing?” Richard suggested.

“That could work,” James muttered. “Like a text message. Then we'd be like teenagers.”

“I'm not sending you a photo of my boobs though,” Jeremy joked.

Luckily this made James smile brightly. “Trust me, it's bad enough that I know how they look like.”

Jeremy let out an airy laugh and shook his head. That was how they would normally talk. How they would know that things were all right.

“That's actually not such a bad idea,” Jeremy admitted. “The writing, I mean. Not the boobs. That would be a dreadful idea.”

James nodded, he gave Jeremy's hand a slight squeeze.

“I have a suggestion,” Mindy began, a sparkle in her eyes. “You take a slip of paper, write something you like or love about the other person on in. Pin it on a board for the other to read.” This way they'd know about all the unspoken things, the knowledge would settle in, so that their feelings for each other no longer seemed like a faint hope.

 

* * *

 

James crawled into the bed in Richard's guest bedroom. Both of them had had a few beers and they hadn't really wanted to drive back home. Instead, they had choose to stay over for the night. That had been fine with the Hammond family, and the rest of the evening was spent talking about anything but their little problem.

James hoped that the suggested solution would work. He really didn't want to lose Jeremy. However, he knew that if this would get worse and every rough patch from the outside would seep into their relationship and cause more hurt than comfort, things weren't looking good.

With a sigh he fluffed up the pillow and rested his head. _It will work_ , he told himself.

The door opened and Jeremy stepped in, wearing only boxers and his shirt. They hadn't thought to bring any sleeping clothes and Jeremy was a bit too big for Hammond's left-over shirts. James fitted into one that was too big for Richard, but only just.

“Got asked by the Mrs. Hammond when our first kiss was,” Jeremy told him as he sat down at the edge of the bed. “Was a bit stumped. Rather tricky if you think about it. At the hangar?”

“I'd say BBC office.” James shrugged his shoulders. “Not sure though. Does it matter?”

“No. Not really. But I think Richard and Andy have a bet going.”

“If we don't even have the answer ...” James huffed some air. Then he saw the little piece of paper Jeremy was holding in his hand. “What's that?”

“Testing,” Jeremy explained and handed it over to James. Then he began to slip out of his shirt. “Couldn't find a tack. Not that we'd have a pinboard.”

James unfolded it. At first he had to squint, missing his glasses. After a bit of adjusting he could manage. Jeremy had a big enough handwriting if he wanted to.

“ _I like that you tell your cat not to sit on my face – C.”_ James smiled at him, shaking his head.

“I was torn between that and that you don't mind that I look like you've impregnated me,” Jeremy replied smoothly as he slipped under the sheets as well.

James wrapped his arms around Jeremy, pulling him to his chest.

“I also considered signing with J, but that will lead to confusion after a while,” he added quietly, noticing the sparkle in James' eyes. _This would work,_ Jeremy knew.

“We need a pinboard,” James muttered.

“Yeah.”

Jeremy shuffled a little closer, he wrapped his arms around James' body and buried his head in his chest. “I'd break the law with you.”

“We did,” James reminded him as he kissed the top of his head.

“Mmmh, good times.”

 

* * *

 

This was the only advice that they had ever observed. Over the years many little sheets appeared. One pinned it on the board, the other read it and took it with him. They never talked about what was written, it was an entire conversation in itself.

 

“ _I like the way you tell stories – M.”_

“ _I like that you sing in the shower – C.”_

“ _I like that you make breakfast for us, no matter at whose place we are. – M.”_

“ _I like that you briefly touch me a little to announce yourself when we're alone but anyone could walk in – C.”_

“ _I love the small touches that pass between us when we're alone – M.”_

“ _I like that you bring me tea when I'm bogged down while writing. - C.”_

“ _I love the way you leave a small escape route when you're holding me while sleeping – M.”_

“ _I love that you let me hold you – C.”_

“ _I love your incurable belief that a touch can heal everything – M.”_

“ _I love the way you hold me when we kiss. - C.”_

“ _I love your hands. They're warm and rough but still gentle. - M.”_

“ _I love your hands too. - C”_

“ _I love that sometimes your pants sit a bit low – M.”_

“ _I love your laugh. When you lose your composure and really laugh. – C. P.S.: You need milk.”_

“ _I love when you try to impress me but make a fool out of yourself. - M”_

“ _I love that idiotic smile you have on your face which says_ I can't believe this idiot – _C.”_

“ _I love that you look at me in utter adoration when we're together in bed – M.”_

“ _I love your little belly, it's a nice place – C.”_

“ _I love the way that you unwind and seem to be fully comfortable when I'm with you – M”_

“ _That's because I am. I love that you never pushed me, and give me all the time I need. - C.”_

“ _I love that you grabbed my arse in public – M.”_

“ _I love your arse. - C.”_

That last one was jokingly pinned on the BBC's bulletin board. It had stayed there for over two weeks until Hammond took it off.

 


	53. Flower

They had driven off without James and Left him in Iraq. The area was relatively safe, and they had been provided with security guards. So it shouldn't have been such a big deal.

Still Jeremy couldn't help letting out a relieved breath when he saw the BMW drive around the corner, and there was an un-beheaded James May at the wheel.

“You've made it!” Richard shouted. Jeremy leant against his car and smiled, the tension slowly fading away from him.

James parked the now functioning BMW and got out. “Yes, I did,” he replied proudly and soon began the story of how he fixed the car. 

Clarkson didn't know what had gone wrong with him; why he had suddenly worried so badly that something might happened to James or why he had felt a dull stab in his gut at every car that wasn't James' … Jeremy let out a sigh, turned around and walked away. The two other men noticed and James paused his story.

“What's with him?” James asked, seeing that Jeremy was already out of ear-shot.

“Don't know,” Richard shrugged his shoulders. “He's your boyfriend.”

James shook his head. It was likely that Jeremy was just brooding, but James couldn't couldn't tell about what. It didn't matter much, Jeremy would come to him soon enough.

“Anyway, then I rolled it over a ditch ...”

 

* * *

 

In their little hotel James encountered Clarkson again as he was neatly folding his worn clothes; he'd need them tomorrow. Just as James was wondering if he should or should not send them off to dry cleaning he heard a knock. The pattern was familiar enough to know that it was Jeremy. He put the shirt aside and opened the door.

“Hey,” James muttered and let him in.

Jeremy held both his arms behind his back when he stepped into the room to make sure that James couldn't see whatever he was holding.

James closed the door, smiling at him. He knew something was up, and Jeremy knew that James knew.

“Everything okay with you?” James asked, taking a few steps towards Jeremy.

“Huh?”

“About … the evening.”

“Oh … that. Yes, I …” Jeremy stumbled over his words. “Yes,” he just stated. He had come close enough to accepting the truth.

“So ...” James gestured at his arms which were still hiding something behind his back.

Jeremy frowned at first. Then his face changed into an O-expression as if he had only remembered now. “Yes. I've been … I got something for you.” His voice was lower. He seemed almost shy.

“Do you?” A soft smile formed on James' face. “If it's another pair of pink aviators ...”

“No, no.” He shook his head. “It's ...” A sigh escaped his lips. Instead of trying to explain he showed him what he held in his hands. James' face softened and a bright smile formed on his lips.

“Jezza … they're really nice,” James muttered, taking the yellow roses off him. He was almost speechless. It's been a while that Jeremy had given him flowers. The last time had been in Vietnam, before they had started their relationship. They didn't do that sort of thing. “Thank you.”

He sniffed them, they smelled …

“They're plastic,” Jeremy explained shyly. “Since the last died a bitter death in Vietnam I thought ...”

 _How long did it take him to find them?_ James wondered. He took another step forward, stood a little on his toes and kissed Jeremy. James closed his eyes and soon felt Jeremy's hand on his cheek, cupping it gently and his thumb stroking along his jawline.

“Why this?” James muttered, they were still standing too close to each other.

“I don't know.” Jeremy let out a frustrated sigh. “I knew you weren't in any danger, but still … I …”

James frowned seeing Jeremy's struggle to put it into words. He let one of his hands wander to Jeremy's face, tilting it down so that they could look directly at each other. Jeremy softened a little bit.

“I just … don't like the idea of … losing you,” Jeremy muttered, looking away.

“Jeremy ...” James began but was cut off when Clarkson shook his head.

“I know,” he replied. “Listen, they're yellow. I couldn't really give you red ones, for not obvious reasons. Yellow means _welcome back._ ”

James nodded. “Thank you.” He kissed him again. “I like coming back.”

“So do I.”

 

* * *

 

James had put the flowers in a vase where they stayed there during the night. When James woke up, his head resting on Jeremy's chest, he stared at the flowers seeing them sit cheerily on the bedside table and James realized that he liked them. A lot. Therefore he didn't want to leave them in the hotel, but couldn't find it in himself to stuff them in his luggage. Instead he had simply stuck them into the air vents of his car. Always good company …

 


	54. Clip

“No! Stop, stop, stop,” one of the cameramen shouted. Jeremy's blood froze as he shut down the engine to see what had happened. He had to swallow hard when he saw James lie on the ground, unmoving and seemingly unable to focus on anyone. Jeremy had frozen in place and could only watch as the crew put down their equipment and ran towards May.

“James can you hear me?” Someone asked him. There was hardly a reply. Then they helped him to sit up. This is when Jeremy saw the blood on the sand. It took him a moment to realize that it was James' blood.

“Fuck.” The image caused him to move. He walked towards James and pushed in between two people. Someone asked for shade, and Jeremy undid his scarf-like cloth. A sound recordist helped him to hold it above James. Their medic pressed a cloth on James' wound and asked the injured man to hold it. James did, but he still seemed lost. It appeared that he didn't understand why he had been asked to do so.

“What are we doing here?” James asked.

Nobody dared to answer his question. Jeremy was about to explain when he felt Richard's hand on his thigh to stop him. Then he realized that they didn't know whether James might have suffered any brain damage. They weren't allowed to give him any clues. Jeremy bit his lip.

“Do you know where we are?” Jeremy asked carefully, hoping that this would prompt the correct answer. However, he didn't receive any answer at all. James just looked around him, like nothing seemed to make sense to him.

Jeremy took a deep breath. The fear that he had felt at the beginning of the journey was coming back again. He had feared for no obvious reason that someone might cut James' head off – someone other than Clarkson himself – now the ropes had thrown James down.

“We'll take you to the hospital.” Their medic told James. “Someone help him walk.”

Of course Hammond and Clarkson chose to do the job. As gently as they could, they reached under James' arms and heaved him up. His feet barely moved as they walked over the the van. There the crew was preparing the seats so James could lie down.

“Clarkson?” James voice sounded quiet. “What happened?”

Jeremy shook his head and avoided looking at James, and Richard. He wanted to answer James and tell him that everything would be all right. However, he knew that head injuries were the tricky, fiendish ones.

“You'll remember,” he muttered instead, hoping that this would satisfy him.

“Okay.”

They reached the car and helped James inside. He sat as upright as he could. His feet were propped up, and he was still holding the cloth to the back of his head. The medic entered the car through the other side.

“They'll drive you to hospital and then you'll be fine again,” Jeremy declared. He patted James' shoulder, because that was the only thing he could do so far at that moment, being brutally aware of the camera behind him.

As he turned around to leave, he felt James' hand on his arm, gripping him tightly, not letting go. “Jeremy,” he called out quietly.

Clarkson looked at the doctor, and then back at James. He looked so lost, Jeremy thought and it broke his heart. “It's all right.” he tried to comfort James. He shouldn't do this, a voice told him. He shouldn't be intimate with James when they were being filmed and even more so, when staying in a place where their relationship might not be legal.

“Don't … go,” James muttered quietly.

“You'll be fine again.” Jeremy's throat tightened as he spoke the words. He threw caution to the wind and simply took James' hand in his. He gently squeezed it and then placed a soft kiss on it.

“What happened?” James asked again, his breath hitched.

There must be nothing scarier for James than a gap in his memory, Jeremy thought. Especially when he noticed that he was injured but couldn't comprehend anything.

“You've just … got a small knock on the head.” Jeremy tried to comfort him. Right now, he didn't care if he should or shouldn't tell him about that. Jeremy was the only one who held his hand and felt the shaking. He hoped that it would only be shock …

“How?”

“Stupidity,” he replied quickly. A small smile formed on James' lips. Jeremy shuffled closer. They said nothing while the doctor wrapped a makeshift bandage around his head.

“You need to go to the hospital to check it out,” Jeremy explained and ran his thumb over James' hand.

James just nodded.

“They'll make sure that there is something inside your head.”

Jeremy could still remembered how scared he had been when they had to check his own head. James had used almost the same words, and they had cheered him up back in hospital. But they didn't seem to have the same effect on James.

Instead he sniffed and nodded again.

“Can you do that?” Jeremy asked carefully. They didn't have the time for Jeremy to come along to hospital.

As a reply James shrugged his shoulders and nodded weakly.

“Good.” Jeremy gave his hand a tight squeeze. He bent forward and softly kissed James' cheek. “I love you, don't forget it.”

James opened his eyes and looked at Jeremy, he nodded again. “Never did.”

Jeremy gave his hand another squeeze. This time James let go of Jeremy as he turned to leave. The car doors were shut, then they drove to the hospital.

Someone cleared his throat and Jeremy turned around, looking right into the camera.

“Oh fuck!” he cursed and pointed at it. “If you don't edit that out, I'll bone you!”

They did edit it out. That was the first time that any clips of James and Jeremy ended up in the _Top Gear_ archives but it probably wouldn't be the last.

 


	55. Dull

At first Clarkson had thought that it was the car but then he felt it again: something was vibrating against his leg …

Jeremy realized what it was and pulled over. “What's wrong?” Hammond asked over the radio.

“Phone,” Jeremy replied and fished it out of his pocket. “Hospital.” He didn't want drive while taking that particular call. There was no reply from Richard. He had stopped behind him, waiting in his car.

Jeremy picked up, “Clarkson.” Hopefully his voice didn't sound as strained as it sounded to Jeremy. "All right … Yes ... Understood. How long? ... Okay ... Thank you. Thank you very much.”

A breath escaped him and he felt a weight was lifted off his shoulders. He leaned into his car seat and closed his eyes.

“All right?” Hammond asked over the radio, sounding very impatient.

“May's fine,” Jeremy replied. This time he wondered if Richard could hear the joy in his voice. “He has a mild concussion. However, he can walk, drive, talk, be a bore as always.”

“That's great.”

“Yeah ...”

“What's the downside?”

“They're afraid he might fall into a coma should he fall asleep. He isn't allowed to sleep for longer than two hours.”

“How long?”

“Two hours.”

“No, how long isn't he allowed to fall asleep?”

“Oh.” Jeremy shook his head. “For the next 12 hours.”

That would be 3AM. A long night, Jeremy concluded.

 

* * *

 

While Richard and a handful of the crew went off to buy themselves burkas, Jeremy drove to the hospital. He entered May's room without knocking, so he wouldn't disturb him. Jeremy saw him sitting on the bed, intent on the phone in his hand. Jeremy smiled and quietly closed the door behind him. James muttered under his breath while he seemed to type on the phone. But then he locked it.

“Hey,” Jeremy muttered quietly.

This caused the phone to fly at Clarkson, which the man managed to catch. “Fucking hell! Clarkson! Knock!”

With a wide smile Jeremy walked towards May. He sat down at the edge of the bed, and kissed him briefly. “I had flowers for you, but I just found this iPhone.”

“Big shite you are.” Jeremy handed the phone back to James, and the other man stuffed it into his pocket.

“How are you?” Jeremy asked.

“Headache, but I'll manage.” James took a deep breath. “Have you been told about my 12 hours?”

“Yeah. We're already one down,” Jeremy replied. “I fear we can't spend the whole time having sex.”

A small laugh escaped James and he shook his head. “No, sorry, darling. I have this horrid ...”

“... headache,” Jeremy finished for him. He leaned forward and gently cupped James' cheek. “I'm glad you're all right.”

“So am I.” Then Jeremy kissed him.

 

* * *

 

The segments for the Special were shot quickly. James seemed to enjoy it and that made Jeremy smile. Back at their hotel they had to deal with an unexpected crowd of fans. However, neither of them minded. Generally they enjoyed the attention from their fans and that people reacted to them this way.

Afterwards, they had lunch and since James wasn't allowed any alcohol he wanted to retire. In addition he was tired and had a headache as well, but he didn't want Jeremy to worry. Still Jeremy didn't leave James alone.

“Man, I'm going to take a shower. There is nothing you can do. I'll be fine,” James protested. He loved Jeremy, but sometimes his nannying could be a bit much. “Have a beer, on me.”

Reluctantly Jeremy had agreed and went back to the crew.

 

* * *

 

This time Jeremy knocked on the door before entering James' room. The man sat on bed, his head propped up on his hand. He let out a sigh and then looked at Jeremy.

“I can knock,” Jeremy offered weakly. He could read off James' face that he was exhausted and wanted to sleep.

“How long have we got?” James simply asked and leaned against the wall.

Jeremy slipped out of his jeans and shirt. “Erm 7 hours in,” he explained as he put a fresh shirt on. “5 hours to go.”

James only nodded as a reply. This rather worried Jeremy and he quietly he crawled into bed as well. He wrapped one arm around James and watched him as he cuddled a little closer, trying to draw comfort from him. Jeremy didn't want to ask how the headache was or if it had gotten worse. He knew that James would hate that. Instead, he kissed the top of his head, noticing that the hair was slightly damp.

“You can sleep a little. I'll wake you up,” Jeremy offered.

“Thanks Jez,” he muttered and shuffled closer to Jeremy.

Jeremy noticed that James' breathing had become heavier and that the grip around his body had loosened. James had fallen asleep. Quietly Jeremy set an alarm - to make sure - and started to inspect one of James' very flowery shirts from afar.

 

* * *

 

“Wake up.” James stirred a little, but buried his head in Jeremy's soft chest. It was so comfortable.

“May, wake up!” Jeremy's voice rang out. James just shook his head. _No!_ “Man, I'll burn your idiotic shirt!”

At that James had to laugh. He rolled onto his back and then had to wince because he might be getting too old to sleep in a sitting position.

“Midnight,” Jeremy declared, sounding as if he was saying good morning to him.

“Why did you wake me?” James asked helplessly. He wanted to sleep for longer and rest his weary old bones.

“As tempting as it was at first, I don't want to see you in a coma,” came the reply along with a kiss.

“Thanks,” James muttered quietly. He sat up, and took a blanket to wrap around his legs. They had opened the windows so fresh air was flowing through the room.

“How do we pass the time now?” James asked as he stifled a yawn.

“Telly is boring, plus we don't speak the language,” Jeremy offered. It would also worsen James' headache, but he didn't want to say that out loud.

“This is going to be a dull night,” James muttered under his breath.

“Don't have any scrabble.” Jeremy shrugged his shoulders. “Most likely better, you always cheat.”

“Not that again.” James huffed. “Listen, Clarkson, I'm always welcoming our banters. But I really can't. Not tonight.”

“Sorry,” Jeremy muttered quietly. “Want to ask awkward questions?” he offered instead.

“Like what? When did you lose your virginity?” James snorted.

“Which way?”

“What?” For a moment James was stumped until he realized what Jeremy had implied. Then he began to laugh and leaned against him. Jeremy wrapped his arm around James.

“Fine, but only if I can return every awkward question,” James agreed.

“That's fair.” Jeremy quietly kissed the top of his head. “Ask away.”

“I dunno. When did you lose your virginity?”

“Seventeen, in summer,” he replied readily. “You?”

“Nineteen.”

“Prude.”

James shook his head and settled on Jeremy's chest again. “You're the one talking. The first time you had sex with a man was, when? 66.”

A smile spread across his face. “Discovered my homosexuality very late.”

“Did you?” James asked even though he knew that Jeremy had been joking.

“No,” Jeremy replied.

“When did it first occur to you that you … didn't mind men?” James asked carefully.

“With 16, I believe.” Jeremy let out a breath.

“Similar,” James answered the unasked question.

It had always been a sign hat he enjoyed having a poster of his favourite racer above his bed as well as one of a pretty lady. “Did you ever get in trouble because of it?” James was aware that that might be taking things too far

“I ...” Jeremy cleared his throat. He shook his head. “I don't want to answer that.”

“Okay.” James gave him a slight squeeze. “But something did happen?”

“Yes.” came quietly back.

“Does it have anything to do with kissing Andy?”

“Indirectly.”

At that point James realized that he had to stop. One more question in that direction and Jeremy might shut this down. So James kept quiet.

“Did you ever get into trouble?” Jeremy asked after a while.

“Erm, hello?” James pinched him.

“Not that, that was because that arsehole was an arse,” Jeremy explained, comfortingly running his hand along James' back. He hoped that he had not brought back bad memories of James' violent ex.

James agreed, but didn't want to dwell on the topic. “That aside, I didn't get into any real trouble, a few words here and there. But I was careful.”

“That didn't stop you from … acting on it?”

“No.”

There was a moment of silence in which Jeremy seemed to process that information. “I actually admire that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

James looked him in the eyes, Jeremy had been honest. A bright smile spread across James' face. Then he began to laugh out loud.

“What's so funny?” Jeremy asked confused, maybe something was wrong with James' head. 

“Nothing. You just … you looked like a pregnant woman in that burka,” James explained between giggles.

In reply Clarkson rolled his eyes. He waited until the laughter had died down for his next question. “Why did you never want children?”

James shrugged his shoulders. “I don't really know. I'm not against them and I thought that the wish would come, but it never did. Now I'm pushing 50 and I don't seem to mind.”

“Hmm. You're okay with mine?” Jeremy asked carefully.

“Yeah, I love them. I also love my sister's, just never wanted any my own.”

There was a silence before James asked his next question. “Why? Do you want more children?”

“God no!” Jeremy replied quickly before James' heart would have started to speed up and panic. “I already have three brats. That's enough. Really.”

James laughed quietly. “Okay.”

“I was just curious.”

“Fine. I know.” James kissed the place where his head was resting. “Then, why did you want children?”

“I don't know, honestly. I just did.” Jeremy shook his head. “And there is something quite rewarding about it. But mostly it's annoying and exhausting.”

James laughed and nodded.

“Katya has developed a fear of spiders now,” Jeremy went on. “Sometimes, I'm a little worried about her.”

“Huh?”

“I don't know. She has such a … She's very sensitive. You know she always used to carry a bear around?”

“Hmm, Sally the Bear.”

“Yeah, she still sits on her bed at her mother's. She's too soft for this world. I thought Emily was compassionate … ”

James tried to think of comforting words. It was possible that Jeremy just needed to voice his thoughts on the subject. He rarely talked about his children with James. At least not like this.

“I don't want the world to beat her up,” he muttered. “Both literally or figuratively.”

James kissed him briefly and then settled his head on Jeremy's shoulder. They were lying on top of each other now, Jeremy's arm around James, like he was holding a teddy bear, and James stretched out on his stomach on top of Jeremy. _Comfortable_ , James mused.

“What about Sarah? Did she want children? Did you guys even talk about it?” Jeremy asked, his voice as strong as before.

“No, she didn't want any. Not that she could,” James stated before he thought any better of it. “Oh god. You don't know about this.”

“Never heard of it.” Jeremy gave him a squeeze.

“Would you have stayed with … well not stayed - wrong word - would you have loved Francie any less if she hadn't been able to have children?” James asked. He hadn't loved Sarah any less, however, neither of them had been interested in having children of their own.

“Not a bit less,” Jeremy replied quietly. There was a moment of silence until Jeremy spoke again. “We actually lost one.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, between Emily and Fin. That's why the age gap is bigger.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Wasn't nice,” Jeremy admitted almost silently. James let the silence stretch. He wasn't sure what to say.

“How far …?” James eventually asked quietly.

“Four months in.” Jeremy rubbed his face. “It was … rotten luck. I didn't love her any less after it. I admired her even more because she managed to get through it.”

James smiled weakly and nodded. He understood that, or at least he thought he did. He would never experience anything like it and concluded that he could have no idea how it might feel.

“Anyway, after the third we knew that we had enough and took measures,” Jeremy began to steer the conversation in a different direction.

“What?” James piped up.

“I had a ...” He stopped for a moment, a small blush creeping on his face. “Maybe I shouldn't be telling you that.”

James frowned for a moment, thinking. “What? You're … shooting blanks?”

Jeremy rubbed his face and shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah.”

A smile formed on James' face. He shook his head and replied. “I never noticed that.”

“That was intended.” Jeremy relaxed again. “Don't tell anyone.”

“Won't. Promise,” he muttered and kissed his neck softly. “That's where that scar comes from.”

“Yes.”

James smiled to himself. He had seen the small scar years ago, it was barely longer than the width of James' finger. But he had never mentioned it, it wasn't done to ask about tiny scars near the penis.

“You noticed that?” Jeremy asked carefully.

“Yeah. You see, I spend a fair amount of time down there,” James replied smoothly.

Jeremy laughed. “Should have never experimented with shaving.”

James couldn't help and laugh as well. “I don't mind.”

“What? The shaving or the not shaving?”

“Both,” James admitted.

“Man, you complain about my leg hair.”

“Because it tickles and that's annoying,” James defended himself. “You also know about our three to four months rule.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jeremy pulled him a little closer. “As long as you keep shaving your armpits.”

James smiled quietly and sat up to look at Jeremy. “How do we work?”

“I have no idea.”

“I'm glad we do.”

“So am I.”

 


	56. Pipe

Andy knocked on the door again. He hoped that either James or Jeremy would open up but there was no reply. He had tried to get them to open the door for the last five minutes, wanting to wake them up at least half an hour before everyone would come downstairs for breakfast. After all officially they hadn't shared a room since they had rented two rooms. But Clarkson's had been empty the whole night. Andy didn't think that Clarkson had ever set foot in it.

He knocked again and still didn't receive a reply. His watch said that it was 7:55AM, which meant that if Clarkson had managed to keep May awake until 3 AM, they had barely had five hours of sleep. The threat of a coma was a big one and surely had prompted Jeremy to act, no matter how much the two of them sometimes pretended to hate each other.

Andy had to admit that he had never fully understood their relationship. He had kept them informed about the legality of their relationship in countries they visited – where they only had to worry about the paps, and where they had to be extremely careful. He had never experience the embarrassment of catching them while they had sex, their relationship didn't seep into the show. In fact he rarely saw them show more affection than laying a hand on the other's back.

With a sigh he took out his hotel card. As the producer Andy had been given a card for every room their crew occupied, in case there was an emergency. Strictly speaking, this didn't qualify, but Andy wanted to make sure they would be ready and see how they were doing. Silently he padded into the room, rounded the corner and then stopped.

Andy smiled softly to himself. May and Clarkson were sleeping blissfully in each other's arms. Jeremy was lying against James' side, with his head resting on James' chest and one of his arms loosely wrapped around him. James had his arm around Jeremy's shoulders to keep his partner close, and his head had sunk down onto Jeremy's.

No, usually Andy didn't get to see them like that. Back in Bolivia they had already gotten up when Andy came back to himself. In truth, Andy hadn't been meant to see this moment now either. He felt awkward knowing that he was violating their privacy.

Quietly he padded to Clarkson's bedside and took his phone. An alarm was set for exactly 8AM, Andy could see. It took only two attempts until he managed to guess Jeremy's password and could change the alarm. Then he wrote a note for them, and left it next to the phone. As silently as he could he made his way out of the room again.

 

* * *

 

Half an hour into breakfast Hammond turned to Wilman “Hey. Do you know where the old men are?”

Andy looked up from his PDA and shrugged his shoulders. “I re-set Jeremy's alarm.”

“Okay.” Richard sounded confused. Under normal circumstances, being late for breakfast lead to a stern lecture. “Can I ask why?”

“Hmm?” Only then did Andy begin to pay attention. “Oh. They had little sleep. I thought they could use the extra hour. Phone will pipe up at 8:50. We'll take some breakfast with us, they can eat it in the car.”

Hammond waited a moment and then a smile formed on his lips. “That was actually a nice thing.”

“I can be nice.” Andy winked. “I put up with all the shit you guys do after all.”

“Thanks for that,” Richard replied dryly. “Did they look okay?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Exhausted, but comfortable enough.”

“Ever seen them like that?”

“Sleeping together? No.” He waited for a beat. “I meant in a non-sexual way. Not that I have ever seen them have sex either.”

“That would be traumatising.” Richard huffed.

“Really.” Andy took a bite of his bacon sandwich. “Sometimes I wonder how it works. Their relationship.”

“They have a rough patch here and there. But they're working on that,” Richard began carefully. He didn't want to give too much away.

Andy nodded. “Yeah, Jez told me about that.” 

“I think it's the friendship,” Richard tried to explain with a shrug. “It's a very deeply settled foundation. It allows them to tease each other, have banters, call the other a spanner, and keep it going when there isn't time for much romance.”

“Maybe.” Andy mused.

“Deep care,” Richard went on. “Then of course, love that goes beyond that friendship.”

“Makes sense. Otherwise that would make us all into a big couple.”

“I am flattered, Andy, but I might be the only straight person here.” Richard deadpanned.

“Funny.” Wilman sighed.

“I know what you're thinking,” Richard went on after a while.

“I'm also not interested in experimenting. The only cock I like is my own,” Andy joked.

“No. Funny you should think of that first.” Andy rolled his eyes and motioned for him to go on. “I know why you're thinking about … them.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, you don't often see them like that, or not at all. If we wouldn't know we could have hardly told the difference.”

“That's why we had a bet on it.” In retrospect that bet was slightly grotesque and it might have been awkward for Andy if he'd been asked to explain why he had thought that they were a couple, had there been nothing.

“Mmh, when they came to Mindy and me for advice, I noticed the way they treat each other when they're being _couple-y_.”

“ _Couple-y_?”

“Acting like a couple,” Richard explained with a shrug of his shoulders. “It's just something very private for them and when you see it ...”

“I know.” Andy nodded. He also couldn't pinpoint that feeling. Seeing them together, in private moments, it felt like being let in on a secret.

 

* * *

 

The next time Jeremy and James excused themselves to be what Hammond would call “couple-y”, Andy kept an eye on them. They didn't wander off very far. Andy saw them leaning against James' Beamer, beers in their hands, and talking. He couldn't understand any words as they were too far away, and he couldn't sneak any closer - that would have seemed odd. After a while he turned his attention back to the stories that were being told by the crew He had no idea what it was about.

He had to accept that he'd most likely never figure out how Clarkson and May's relationship worked. Maybe that wasn't such a bad thing; he also didn't really know how his own marriage worked. He just knew that it did, and that it involved a lot of trust, love, care and commitment. Andy didn't think that the two men could answer his question either. Probably they just enjoyed the ride, chose each day to be together and didn't bother about the reasons behind it. They worked on things that went wrong, Andy knew.

While Andy wasn't paying attention, he missed Jeremy digging his head into James' neck, kissing him softly there and then on his lips.

However, they all noticed when Clarkson ran away from May and towards the lake. “I can walk on water!” Clarkson shouted, he ran on what appeared to be a sand bank.

James was laughing and shaking his head. He laughed even harder when the sand bank just ended and Jeremy fell into the water. Jeremy's head came back up, and he was smiling sheepishly.

“What now, you pathetic old man?” James mocked while walking up the sand back as well.

“Invented swimming!” Jeremy replied as he swam towards James. With a little help from May he pulled himself out of the water. James rolled his eyes, when Jeremy, completely drenched, stood in front of him and kissed him softly. Then both cracked-up.

 


	57. Pattern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PWP

Jeremy was terribly eager. James had come back after almost two months away from home, making episodes for _Man Lab_ and small clips for _Top Gear_. The brief time he had been in London, Jeremy hadn't been. This had been a real shame and it showed right now. Jeremy simply pushed James against the wall, kissing him eagerly. James gladly let him, god he had missed him too. This would have been much worse if they had been near each other with no way to get close, but it had been difficult enough.

“God, Clarkson,” James moaned as he felt Jeremy's tongue start to work on his neck. Jeremy's body was pressing him against the wall. _Jesus,_ he could feel everything that was him: his warmth, the rough hands which started to wander under his shirt, the belly that clearly said Clarkson, and something else pressing against him.

James had missed Jeremy as well, and he had missed this as well. James had one hand on Jeremy's bum, digging his nails into it to pull him closer. ”I want you,” James muttered as he slipped his other hand under Jeremy's waistband. “Bedroom, quickly,” he ordered and pushed Jeremy away from him.

The other man nodded and took James' hand in his. They made it upstairs as fast as possible and Jeremy carefully pushed James down onto the bed, nudging him with his hip. Then Jeremy gently pressed his hand against James' crotch, which caused James to emit a moan. “Fuck me,” Jeremy muttered as he settled a leg between James'.

“Gladly,” James replied and pulled Jeremy down to him. He kissed him deeply, working on Jeremy's jeans and pulled them down. Then followed their shits. It was determined, and maybe rushed. They didn't have it in them to go for a slow fuck, they could do that later. Right now they just needed to feel each other, as intense and as quickly as possible.

So Jeremy pulled James' shirt over his head, it almost got stuck on his hair. But with a gentle tug he was freed, lying bare-chested underneath Jeremy. He smiled and James returned it. Jeremy licked his fingertips, and began to trace invisible lines on his chest. Then he began to circle James' nipples. “Jesus,” James mumbled as Jeremy began to tease him.

“How do you …?” James muttered, now feeling Jeremy's tongue draw patterns on his chest. The same time Jeremy undid the fly of James' trousers and palmed his cock. Impatiently James lifted his hip and Jeremy pulled the jeans along with pants down. Without a moment of hesitation, Jeremy took James in his mouth. He chose a simple rhythm, one – two. Two quick sucks, followed by a slow and gentle one. James closed his eyes, throwing back his head to enjoy the sensation. He let one hand rest on Jeremy's shoulder, gently stroking him with his thumb while he clenched in the sheet beneath him with his other hand, needing something to hold on to. He hissed, letting out a moan.

Then James opened his eyes again and couldn't help the hitch in his breath as he saw Jeremy's lips moving over his cock, as Jeremy was taking him in. His breath left him almost completely when he noticed that Jeremy was fucking himself with one hand. “Oh fuck,” James muttered, his hip jerking slightly at the vision.

“Shh, shh, not so quickly.” Jeremy muttered.

“You bastard.”

A smug smile formed on Jeremy's lips; he crawled upwards and then kissed him passionately. James cupped Jeremy's cheek with his hands and drew away from the kiss, panting. “Let me,” he muttered eagerly. James reached for the lube which was lying at the edge of the bed and coated his fingers in the substance. Then he began to finger Jeremy. They were kissing until Jeremy's breath hitch and he emitted a moan. “God, I've missed you.” James whispered as he felt Jeremy push closer to him.

“Mmmh, fuck me,” Jeremy replied and pushed away from James. “Fucking hell, I want you inside me.”

James smiled wickedly and pulled his fingers out of Jeremy's arse. “Then let me,” he offered and gave Jeremy's bum a squeeze.

“No, I want to ride you,” Jeremy mumbled. _This was new._ James' breath hitched when he thought about that.

“By all means,” he replied, letting his hand settle on Jeremy's hip. He watched as Jeremy lubed James' cock up, gently stroking him while doing so. James wanted to close his eyes, enjoy the feeling of Jeremy's hand. However, the temptation to watch him do all of this was stronger. Then Jeremy settled on his hips. Jeremy's back was turned towards James.

“All right?” Jeremy asked.

James gently stroked down the length of his beautiful back, the skin smooth and hot under his fingers. “If you are,” James answered. God, he was more than all right. So Jeremy began to lower himself onto James, setting the pace.

At first it was slow and careful, both of them getting used to the new position. James let his hands stroke down Jeremy's sides, settling just above his arse, whispering encouraging words and gently stroking Jeremy with his thumbs. When Jeremy picked up the pace, he held onto James' ankles for stability. James got a kick out of seeing Jeremy fuck himself.

“Fuck,” he muttered, and when he encouraged Jeremy to move faster, his partner seemed only happy to oblige. James was gently stroking along Jeremy's back, while watching him as he slid up and down his cock, letting out little moans.

“You're such a good fuck,” James groaned, matching Jeremy's thrusts. Then he reached around Jeremy's body to grasp his cock, and began to stroke him. But he was unable to match the rhythm of Jeremy's movements.

Jeremy stretched his back, letting out a long and low moan. James smiled smugly. “God, let me fuck you. Just fuck you,” he begged, stroking him a little faster, moving his hips in the opposite rhythm.

“Please,” Jeremy asked of him, breathless. The sweat was sticking onto their skin. “Fuck me.”

James sat up and pressed against Jeremy's back, slowly stroking him. He gently bit the sensitive flesh on Jeremy's shoulders, drawing a small moan. Jeremy closed his eyes, let his head roll back and rested it on James' shoulder.

Then James' brought his legs under Jeremy's body. This way he'd have a better leverage and he always made sure that Jeremy never left his crotch. James slowly moved inside of Jeremy again, feeling his hot flesh around him. Jeremy let out small whimpering noises in return.

At first James thrust slowly, watching Jeremy relax against him while all his muscles were flexed. Jeremy's teeth were clenched and his fingers were digging into James' thigh. “Ah fuck me, James,” he pleaded.

And James did, he moved faster and kept stroking Jeremy. Always in a different rhythm, trying to keep an offbeat rhythm. He felt Jeremy move against him, trusting James with his body. That was good, his breathing came irregular, his muscles tightened and James pulled him close, not letting go. James rolled his hips, drawing the sweetest noises out of Jeremy. James felt warm semen cover his hand and then his ministrations resulted in a moan, lower than anything he had ever heard from Jeremy. James pushed in deeper, digging his nails into Jeremy's hips, biting his shoulder.

Jeremy was his, only his, and he wanted to mark him as such. Jeremy emitted an even louder moan, and James could feel himself becoming undone as well.

They sank down into the bed together. Jeremy lay there limply and watched as James went up to clean both of them. Afterwards James returned to bed, took Jeremy in his arms, and they fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

The next morning James only woke up when he heard Jeremy shouting from the bathroom. “Oh for god's sake! James! I'll kill you!”

Not even fully aware of what was going on, he turned to look at the open bathroom door. There was Jeremy, stark naked. “Have you seen this, you idiot?”

At first, James could only see Jeremy's naked body. A very tempting naked body. Hence he shook his head, but soon his eyes adjusted to the light and Jeremy stepped closer. James frowned a little as he saw a small bruise at the side of his hip, a few light scratch marks ran along his cleft and more prominently a bite mark on his shoulder. But then James smiled to himself, it was a very lovely pattern. He reached out to touch him.

“You're a dead man,” Jeremy huffed.

“Does it hurt?” James asked. He knew that Jeremy liked being fucked roughly from time to time. A small bruise on his hip happened quickly, a light bite also happened from time to time. However, an experience as intense as last night was rare.

“Not really,” he replied and sat down next to James. “Still a dead man.”

James sat up and kissed Jeremy gently. Jeremy kissed back, running his hand through James' hair.

“You're still a good fuck,” James stated casually.

 


	58. Luck

Jeremy knocked feverishly on the door. The first thing he said while pushing past was “this had better be good.” and walked up the stairs. He hadn't been here often, and had only been inside once or twice, but he knew enough to find his way around.

“She locked herself in,” Francie explained as she followed him upstairs.

Clarkson sighed and stood in front of the door. He knocked a few times, maybe harder than he had wanted to. “Open up,” he ordered. “Katya, it's your Dad. Open the door.”

“No!”

Francie leaned against the wall, a worried expression on her face. “I haven't been able to get her out for the last few hours. What makes you think that that would work?”

Jeremy clenched his fists, he took he deep breaths to calm down again and turned to Francie. She was staring intently at him. “Because you said she wanted to talk to me,” Clarkson explained, not breaking eye-contact. Francie shook his head, and Jeremy knocked again. “Well, now I'm here and you're still …” He bit his own lips. “... inside.”

“No!” Katya shouted back. The sharpness of her tone surprised Jeremy so much that he took a step back. “Go away. Both of you; leave me alone!”

“Why the fuck did she even lock herself in?” Jeremy turned to Francie. She was looking at his shoulder, avoiding eye-contact. “We were married. I know that look, it's your _Fuck, I can't tell him_ look.”

Francie bit her lip. “Colin asked me to marry him. I said yes.”

“Oh,” Jeremy muttered, not sure what else to reply.

“That is all you're going to say?” Francie frowned. “Just _oh._ ”

“What?” Jeremy shrugged his shoulders. “Do you want me to fall on my knees and beg you to take me back? Because that is never going to happen.”

Francie rolled her eyes. “Seriously?”

“Yes. Seriously.” Jeremy's voice was flat. _What other response had she been expecting?_ “I'm guessing Katya wasn't so fond of the news?”

“As you can see ...” She pointed at the door. “No.”

Jeremy knocked again. “Katya,” he said in a sing-song voice. “Open up. I won't let your mother in.”

“Please, go away.” They heard her voice again. It had lacked all the bite from earlier.

Jeremy shrugged his shoulders. “Well, at some point she'll have to pee.”

“That's it?” Francie asked. “That's all you're going to say? That she's going to pee and come out.”

“She has to,” he defended himself. “And we can't drag her out, unless you want the social workers down here.”

“Fucking hell, Clarkson.” Francie threw her hands up the air. “So you're going to leave like this?”

“I did not say that.” Jeremy shook his head. “If you'll allow me, I'd like it stay. But I can't torment her out of her fucking room!”

“All right.” This time she was exasperated. A deep breath later her voice had normalised again. “You can stay.”

“Thank you.” Jeremy knocked on the door again. He cleared his throat. “Katya, if you need anything I'm in the living room.”

There was a pause before a simply “okay” came back.

Jeremy turned on his heel and walked past Francie. “Oh, and congratulations on your engagement.”

 

* * *

 

“Do you want me to cancel?” Jeremy heard James' voice through the phone. He let out a sigh and with some considerable dread replied in the affirmative.

“It seems like I'm not getting away from here quickly,” he tried to explain. He looked over the small garden that Francie tried to cultivate.

“Okay.” James sounded disappointed.

Jeremy could understand him, he didn't like the idea either. “Sorry.”

“Not your fault,” James reassured him. “What happened?”

“I don't quite know yet. Francie is getting married again, Katya didn't like that; locked herself in.”

“Hmm … how are you doing with that?”

Jeremy waited for a moment. He thought about the question and answered honestly. “I'm surprisingly okay with that. Indifferent almost.”

James didn't say anything.

“You still there?” Jeremy asked after a long stretch of silence.

“Yeah,” James replied quickly. “I just didn't know what to say to that. I wanted to say _good_. But that would have sounded ….”

“James, stop.” Jeremy cut him off. “You're over-thinking. I'm fully devoted to you.”

“Good.”

“Yes, it is.” Jeremy smiled. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Then they hung up. Jeremy sighed, and went back into the house, where he was greeted by Francie. She was sitting in the kitchen and reading the newspaper. Jeremy fished his cigarettes out of his trouser pockets. “Do you mind?” he asked.

She shook her head. “You still smoke?” Francie took an ashtray out of the back from a cupboard.

“Can't give it up. Tried everything,” he replied with a shrug and lightened his fag.

“Was that James on the phone?” she asked as Jeremy also sat down at the kitchen table.

“Yeah.”

“Things going well with him?”

“Very.” Jeremy smiled more than he had intended to. “Just told him to cancel the flight. We had intended to fly on holiday. Guess we won't make it.”

Francie smiled sadly. “Where to?”

“Istanbul.”

“If they'd know about you two they'd quarter you,” Francie muttered.

“Then it's a good thing we're not open about it.” Jeremy's voice was cold. They had never talked about their new relationships and maybe this was the reason …

“Sorry. I shouldn't have ...” She broke off.

“Yeah, you shouldn't have.” They had settled on neutral ground a while ago, being more like two people who lived their lives and not commenting on the other's. Despite all efforts it still seemed to be fragile ground. “Guess you still have to adjust because your ex-husband is ...”

“No.” Francie cut him off. “That's not actually that surprising.”

Jeremy looked at her questioningly. “Okay.” he muttered.

Even before his relationship with James, he hadn't tried to hide his attraction towards men. He had been married to a woman, and that had been a clear sign that he was apparently straight. So he hadn't bothered hiding anything. But he had never told Francie about his bisexuality either. After all he had been fully devoted to her, and having never slept with any men before meant that he hadn't seen a point in telling her. “How come?”

“You also noticed when I looked after men.”

“Sometimes.”

“I noticed that with you too, rarely,” Francie began to explain carefully. “We were married for a long time. Given the way you sometimes joked about openly gay people I was never sure if … you knew.”

“I did,” Jeremy confirmed. “I just don't like homosexualist's behaviour towards it.”

“Do I need to understand that?”

“I guess not.” He shrugged his shoulders. “You know the type. The first thing they talk about is _oh I'm gay, did you know that we have butt sex? Oh, you did? We need ten Pride Parades. You need to wear a rainbow suit now. And this guy looked at me weirdly; must be a homophobic and it won't have anything to do with the fact that I dress like a clown. This is the photo of my gay dog, my gay couch. What do you mean hobbies? I don't have any._ They say 'being gay shouldn't be the only thing people see about us' but then make it into a big all-consuming thing. They can't talk about anything else. I don't want it to be treated like a big thing; no one treats being straight like it's important. Why should be queer be any different?”

“Hm. Good point. But have you considered that for that to happen you need to make a big fuss first?”

“You have that from Emily.” Francie nodded in reply. “I have, and maybe that's a fair point. Still, I don't want to be the one to do that. Those people can if they want to. I won't stop them.”

“Fair enough.”

Jeremy left the remains of his fag in the ashtray. “At least you didn't say it was because I wanted to fuck you in the ...”

“Oh god, stop with that.” Francie cut him off. At least she noticed that Jeremy wanted to lighten the mood. “That's the most unappealing thought.”

“I always respected your wish,” Jeremy replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

“I know.” Then a wicked smile appeared on her face. “You were always a hedge packer.”

“Hedge packer?” Jeremy frowned. Then he realized and began to laugh out loud. “You mean fudge packer!”

“Yeah, that. Whatever.” Francie kicked him under the table, and they were laughing. “Is that only a gay thing?”

“I wouldn't use it in fine company.”

“Good thing you aren't.”

“Still the same, you are.” Jeremy smiled fondly. After all, this was the woman who would use the word cunt as early as possible in a conversation in order to get rid of the 'weak' people. “I wouldn't think too much about it, but I suppose since straight men can also enjoy ...”

“Don't say it.”

“A bit of fudge packing then. Or in your case, hedge building; no.” Jeremy smirked.

“Why fudge?” Francie asked while she emptied the ashtray and put it back into the cupboard.

“Because it is brown and sticky,” he elaborated. “Just like shit.”

“Ew.” Then she sat back down again. “Don't tell me that you actually come into contact with it.”

Jeremy shrugged his shoulders. “Answering that would be like answering if people pee into their wetsuits to keep it warm.”

“You've had shit on your cock!” Francie shouted and Jeremy was laughing brightly at her discomfort. Soon she joined in.

 

* * *

 

Jeremy had settled on the sofa. Since the guest room currently functioned as a closet and it was impossible to located the bed underneath all the stuff, that would have to do. The sofa was a bit short, but he would manage if he pulled his legs close to his body. Colin would only come home late in the night, and Francie advised that Jeremy should sleep and ignore him, adding that she wouldn't take the blame if Jeremy ended up with a baseball bat against his head. There was a natural tension between Jeremy, Francie's ex-husband and father of her children, and Colin, future husband. Other than that, Jeremy didn't know Colin well enough to know whether he might like him.

However, when Jeremy woke up during the night, it wasn't due to Colin's return. “Dad?” he heard Katya's small voice.

He blinked himself out of sleep and saw her standing in front of him. “Little One,” he muttered, because he had always called her that. The fact that she'd go to boarding school after the summer didn't change that. “You escaped.”

A small smiled formed on her lips. “Yes.” She sat down on the floor in front of him. “I'm sorry for shouting at you.”

“I know,” Jeremy muttered, gently ran his hand through her hair. “It's forgiven.”

They waited for a moment and Clarkson felt his daughter’s hand steal into his. Jeremy sat up and planted himself next to Katya. “Do you want to tell me about it?” he asked carefully.

“I just … I know it's stupid.” Katya cut off.

“It's not,” Jeremy muttered.

“Can I stay with you and James until I go to school again?” Katya asked quietly.

Jeremy took a deep breath. Theoretically, he had no issues with that, however … “Do you remember the time Finlo didn't want to visit me for two months?”

The reply was reluctant. “Yes.”

“That's why you can't.” Jeremy didn't want Francie to go through this. It had been horrible, the waiting, the hoping that Finlo might change his mind, various times he had tried to contact him. It had almost broken Jeremy's heart. “Unless it is absolutely necessary. Why would you want to?”

“Because I don't want Mum to marry.”

Jeremy gave her hand a squeeze. “But you were okay with them just being together?”

Katya shrugged her shoulders. “I thought they would never … that you and her. It doesn't make sense.”

Clarkson smiled weakly. He understood where Katya was coming from. She had thought that despite being divorced that her parents wouldn't marry again. That it would be the only marriage in their lives. “Little One, she'll still marry him even if you come with me.”

“I know.” Katya leaned against her father.

“Colin is okay,” he tried to comfort her.

“I guess so,” she muttered. “Sometimes he's an arse.”

“Has he ever hurt you?” Clarkson asked carefully. He was quite ready to hurt him in return if he had.

“No,” she replied quietly. Jeremy let out a breath and nodded. “Sometimes he says really rude things about you. I don't like that.”

“A lot of people do that.” Jeremy laughed quietly and kissed the top of her head. “That's all right.”

“No, not that way,” Katya muttered. “About you and James.”

“Oh.” Jeremy wasn't quiet sure what to reply to that.

“You never say anything rude about Colin and Mum, but he does about you.” She rubbed her eyes. “That after the divorce you turned gay because you couldn't get anything better. Or that it's typical for people your age. Or that mum turned you gay and it won't happen to him. Like you had done something wrong.”

Jeremy gave her a slight squeeze. “Katya, I hate to say it, but that won't get easier with time,” he muttered. “You'll often hear something like that against people who are queer.”

“Maybe,” she muttered. “He only says that about you though, not about Emily or other people.”

“Does he say those things in front of your mother?” Jeremy asked carefully.

“No, his friends.” For a moment Clarkson's blood froze. _Fucking hell._ But reason quickly returned to him. The media hadn't printed any of this. Colin's friends seemed to treat the information like a joke, or maybe they didn't believe him. Jeremy was officially single after all, and Colin wouldn't been able to prove anything.

“Have you told your mother?” he asked, after his heartbeat returned to normal.

“No. I wasn't sure if she'd understand.”

“I think she would.”Colin appeared to be riling against “Clarkson the ex-husband” and not “Clarkson the gayist.” That was not something that would stop Francie from marrying But … “She's a strong woman and will keep him in check to not say those things again.”

“Maybe,” Katya muttered.

“Listen, Little One, I'll talk to her in the morning,” he muttered and kissed the top of her head. “Would you like that?”

Katya nodded in reply.

“No leaving your mother then?”

“Okay.”

“Good girl.” He gave her a tight squeeze and seconds later she was hugging him.

 

* * *

 

Some time during the night Katya had gone back to her room. When Jeremy woke up, he had a slight pain in the back but he quickly focused his attention on the smell that hit his nose.

“Mmmhmm,” he hummed as he opened his eyes and turned to the cup of coffee on the table.

“I knew you'd like it.” Francie's voice came from the kitchen.

Clarkson stretched out his arm to reach the cup, but the gap was too big: a mistake he realized when he fell off the sofa. “Ouch,” he muttered as he heard Francie's laughter from the kitchen.

“You talked to Katya,” she said when Clarkson managed to get to his feet and started to sip coffee.

“Yeah. Did she talk to you?” he asked as he sat down. He waved off her offer for breakfast, as he wanted to leave soon. There wasn't anything left for him to do, so he didn't want to stay longer than necessary.

“Yes. I'm sorry, Jeremy. I didn't know that he was saying that,” she explained.

“It's fine,” he replied. “He can think what he wants. It's just that Katya doesn't need to hear it.”

Francie bit her lips and nodded. “I'll talk to him.”

“Good. Can I use your shower?” Clarkson asked.

“Yeah, Colin should be done by now.”

“Okay,” Jeremy muttered. He wasn't too interested in meeting the man, especially not now. And talking to him wouldn't change his opinion either.

 

* * *

 

Jeremy knocked on the bathroom door and then opened it. Colin was still inside, standing in front of the mirror wearing sweats and a shirt

“Oh sorry. Francie said you were done. I can wait,” he muttered and was about to retreat again.

“I just finished,” Colin replied and stepped aside. “Just know where to keep your eyes.”

Jeremy snorted. “Sorry?”

“I don't want to be bummed.”

“That's only fair.” Jeremy suppressed a yawn. “If it's any comfort, I have absolutely no interest in bumming you. Or in being bummed by you for that matter.” A wicked smirk formed on his lips. “Funny, the last man I said this to bums me now.”

“How is that funny?”

Jeremy rolled his eyes. “Relax, I was making a joke. You're not a _Daily Mirror_ reader are you?”

“I don't get what Francie saw in you for so long.”

Jeremy shrugged his shoulders. He could play dirty too, if he wanted to. “I'm bigger.”

For a moment Colin frowned. “We're the same height.”

Jeremy cocked his head, indicating that he meant something else.

Slowly he watched realization dawn on Colin's face. “Francie!” Colin shouted and quickly left the bathroom. Meanwhile Jeremy giggled gleefully and stepped into the shower.

 

* * *

 

“I was guessing. Poor girl,” Jeremy finished telling the story to James. They were sitting at Heathrow, sipping on wine and waiting until they could board the plane.

James laughed and shook his head. “Everything all right then?”

“Yeah. I told Katya to call me if it happens again.” He shrugged his shoulders. “It won't stop Colin thinking like this, at least I don't think so. But Katya doesn't need to hear it; not if it has that effect.”

“No.” James agreed. “No little Clarkson we have to take care of?”

“Nope.”

“Do you think that Colin really has …”

“A small dick?” Jeremy finished. They were trying very hard not to burst out laughing again. “I'd like to think so. Yeah.”

James shook his head, with his hand he reached for Jeremy's hand giving it a squeeze.

“I thank the Lord for my healthy children, our successful jobs, the food, the money, cars, air travel, and our well-sized cocks.”

“Will you two stop it!” an old lady shouted from the back of the room. This only prompted further laughter from the two middle-aged men waiting for their flight to Istanbul.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To address the elephant in the room: people **pee** into their wetsuits to keep them warm.


	59. Heart

A heart could be a funny thing, Jeremy mused. It could beat faster and harder when you were nervous. It appeared to beat not at all when you held your breath while jumping over your shadow to risk something. When it worked normally you didn't seem to notice it at all. There were times when you only noticed later that it hadn't worked properly for years, such as Francie telling him that their marriage had come to an end. Back then he had thought that it would never work again, but then James had just kicked it back to life. Then there were moments when it seemed to struggle and either got you destroyed completely, or maybe, just maybe, left you alive long enough for another wild ride. He had felt this before when being told that Katya needed surgery; the first time he heard her scream in pain in the middle of the night, when Hammond had gone upside down, and he felt it right now: Jeremy was sitting on a cheap plastic chair, clinging to the hope that James' heart would survive for another day.

Jeremy rubbed his eyes, he wished that he could do something but James' fate was out of his hands now. He had done everything that he could have done and he'd be the first they'd inform of James' condition. Now … Jeremy sighed.

 _James is strong,_ he told himself, before shaking his head. He couldn't lose him, Jeremy realized, and he could feel his heart beating like he was his last mile again. Not knowing what to do: give up? Or keep going?

The moment of James' collapse was still to vivid in his mind:

 

* * *

 

They had been filming in the studio when Jeremy had noticed the wasp. He had flipped completely. He hated these things on principle and wanted them gone, but more than that, he feared for James, who was allergic and could have a severe reaction to a sting. Jeremy might be allergic as well, he wasn't sure, but for James it was certain. He had reacted badly before. So while the Hamster tried to make light of the situation, May had kept quiet and tried not to look worried.

“Highlight of the trip.” Jeremy shook his head and joined Richard's tale when it seemed that the wasp had disappeared outside. After the show and after they had dealt with the audience Jeremy had joined James in their little kitchen.

“You okay?” he asked from behind. James turned around, a cup of tea in his hand, looking a bit lost.

“Oh, that. Yeah, I'm good.” James smiled weakly, letting out a deep breath.

Clarkson nodded and got himself a cup. Might as well, after all they had come in the same car, and were going to the same place.

Jeremy had only learnt about James' allergic reaction to wasps when he himself had been stung in Vietnam, being told afterwards that he might have a more severe reaction if he was stung again. James had become fidgety, and confessed later that he had had an anaphylactic shock before. He always took his epi-pen with him on their trips to foreign countries, and usually kept one in his car and at home, but as life went on, he didn't bother as much, and didn't take one with him everywhere he went.

Today, however, they had come in Clarkson's car – who hadn't been given an epi-pen – so things would have been quite dreadful, if the wasp had attacked James.

The crew was already on their way home and the two men met Hammond in the car park. Jeremy exchanged some quick words with him, about a topic he couldn't remember anymore. In the midst of their conversation Jeremy had noticed James letting out a curse and slapping the back of his neck. Jeremy had looked over, at first unsure why James had looked so shocked until he had realized ...

“Fuck.” He had run over to James, commanding Richard to “call an ambulance!”

Arriving just in time, Jeremy had been able to catch May's falling body. Otherwise he might have cracked his head on the pavement. “It's all right.” Jeremy had muttered while gently lowering them both to the ground. It was strange, Jeremy thought now, that he had been able to react so quickly, yet at the same time it had felt as though his brain had been completely empty. He had rubbed James' back and told him to try and keep breathing. At the same time he had explained to Richard what was happening, who had passed the information on the emergency service on the phone.

“Does he have an Epi---?”

“No. It's not here,” Jeremy had stated, feeling his vision blur. He had bit his lip, he couldn't have lost James. Not there, not like that.

Richard had passed on the information and ran off. Jeremy had known that he was going to a small crew of medics. They were always prepared for various situations and maybe, just maybe, they had something to help James.

It was still possible that May could get out of this unharmed. However, even Jeremy had known that the Guildford ambulance would never make it in time if the medics weren't able to provide them with anything.

He had felt James cough a few times, more violently than prior. Carefully he had adjusted their position so that James had been able to look at him. “It's okay, just keep breathing. “ Jeremy had encouraged, seeing the tears that had begun to run down James' cheek. Gently he had wiped them away and tried to smile reassuringly. That had failed of course, and James had coughed again before shaking his head. “I know you can do it. Just keep breathing. Please.”

“Here!” He had heard shouting from behind his back. Then he had felt a hand on his shoulder. The medics had helped him to lower James to the ground, and then one of them had rammed a needle into James' thigh. They had counted to ten, which had reminded Jeremy again just how long ten seconds could be. His other hand had always stayed on James' cheek, rubbing it in an effort to give him some comfort.

For the first time since this had started, Jeremy had dared to breathe, noticing that James' breathing seemed to be getting easier. But it had still been a bit strained; the medics hadn't arrived quickly enough for the medication to take full effect.

Just as Jeremy had to relax again, James had started to cough again, only this time not due to lack of breath. Jeremy had realized his problem quickly, and had shouted for the medic to help him roll James over and bring him into the recovery position. They had managed it just in time before James had thrown up.

After that he had clenched his teeth, struggling for breath again. Jeremy had only been able to watch as the medic had informed him that James' blood pressure was too low, and that he was going into shock.

 

* * *

 

Jeremy always looked up when he saw a doctor walking down the hall. And finally, one paid attention to him. Taking a deep breath and swallowing hard, Jeremy stood up to face him. _Please,_ he asked of a god he didn't believe in.

“Mr. Clarkson?”

Jeremy just nodded, feeling a knot form in his stomach. If it was bad, how would he explain this to Mrs. May, or his brothers and sister?

“Mr. May is in recovery, but awake.”

_Recovery?_

“He'll feel like coming off a long fever. However, after a week of rest he'll be fully back to normal.”

 _He lives. He'll be fine._ Again, his heart set out for another kickstart.

“Do you understand?”

And yes, bloody hell, yes, he did. “Yes,” Jeremy stated, feeling his own heart beat faster than ever before. “Where?”

The doctor gave him the room number, and he had started to run before he could think of asking for directions. Still, he managed to find May's room, and then opened the door without knocking.

As soon as he entered, he stopped dead. The room was dark, the blinds were drawn, and lying on the bed in the middle of the room was James, his hands clenched – mostly liked from the rush of adrenaline – but his eyes were closed.

 _James,_ he thought his heart beating painfully inside his chest. _James_. When the door fell shut James opened his eyes and smiled weakling when he made out Jeremy.

In two strides, Jeremy was at James side, shaking his head and muttering only one word: _James_.

Then he hugged him, just hugged him. He couldn't have lost him and James hugged back, he was digging his head into Jeremy's chest, and the other man buried his head in James' shoulder. Jeremy had slug one arm around James' waist and the other around his shoulders, not planning on letting him go any time soon. James seemed fine with that, digging his own fingers into Jeremy's back.

At some point Richard walked in. He snatched a chair quietly and discreetly, and then he managed to take a phone of the sight in front of him.

Later, he sent that photo of a short list of people – May's mother and siblings, Mindy, and Jeremy's children and mother – and captioned it with one piece of information: they didn't let go for each other for an hour.

 


	60. Warm

Despite being weak James had still protested against staying a night in the hospital. He claimed he was feeling well enough, arguing that they didn't even monitor his heart any longer and this meant he could go home. At first the doctor hadn't been convinced. However, when – quite boldly – Jeremy claimed he'd be taking care of him, the doctor's resolve had softened a little bit. The NHS was already underfunded, and keeping James in a bed would cost them. A bed that other people would need more.

The doctor had taken Jeremy aside and instructed him on various things. He was also surprised to discover that Jeremy already knew quite a lot of things. He had taken the obligatory BBC Health & Safety and First Aid courses. Actually, he remembered a lot from them, and he was a father of three as well, so over time he had learnt a lot of small things.

When Jeremy came back into James' little room, he pulled the blanket off his feet. “You're free to go,” he announced.

“Really?” James asked, his voice still not sounding like his own.

“Yep. If I take care of you.”

“How did you do that?” Richard asked. He had been sure that James would have to stay for at least one night.

“Slept with the doctor,” Jeremy joked. “I know what the man likes. Dirty bastard.”

James rolled his eyes. At first he had planned on getting out of bed on his own, but now he became aware of what the doctor had meant with _feeling like coming off a long fever._ His heart pounded horribly just from sitting up and moving to the edge of the bed.

As best as he could, James slipped back into his jeans. Then Jeremy discovered that James' shirt wasn't clean any longer. “I fear some sick ended up on it,” he explained.

“Throw it away,” James simply muttered and began to tuck the hospital gown into his jeans.

“James, it's one of your favourites. We can just wash ---”

“It's a shirt. Throw it away,” he insisted. Jeremy bit his lip and nodded. He crumpled it and threw it in the bin.

“Ready?” Hammond asked, James nodded and tried to stand on his own feet. Richard had noticed the exhaustion it caused him and winced inwardly. Jeremy quietly reached under James' arms, making it look like he was the one who demanded James to lean on him. Together the three of them made it towards the car park.

James felt more than a little ridiculous, he was wearing jeans in which he had tucked a hospital gown that was gaping open at the back. He was leaning against someone the whole world believed to be his co-worker just because he couldn't walk the distance on his own. The only way it could have been worse was for him to have needed a bloody wheelchair. He was annoyed at the situation, and in addition to that, his heart pounded way too hard, and his head hurt. He wanted to be home.

Richard steered them towards Jeremy's car, which a poor cameraman had been volunteered to drive to the hospital, to leave it there and walk home. Richard helped Jeremy to lower James gently into the seat, then he suggested “I'll call you tomorrow. I can also come over.”

Jeremy thanked him, shook his hand and agreed, under the condition that James would be feeling well enough.

Right then, James didn't feel well at all. Halfway home he fell asleep in the seat, and Jeremy turned the radio down to not wake him. When they reached Hammersmith, James was barely strong enough to make it up the stairs. Even with Jeremy's help it took far too long. Jeremy tucked him in, then provided him with a glass of water and settled down to watch over him. It wouldn't be an easy night, Jeremy knew that much.

 

* * *

 

When James opened his eyes the next morning, his head was pounding, his mouth was dry. He felt horrible. The only comfort he felt was the warmth that came from behind. It didn't take long until he realized that it was Jeremy.

His partner held him tighter than usual, one hand wrapped around his stomach to keep him in place. It almost made it impossible for him to thrash about or move away without Jeremy's consent. Jeremy's right hand was resting over James' own right wrist. Jeremy was barely holding onto it, and James assumed that during the night it had slipped from his hand to the wrist. Usually, he'd feel uncomfortable being held this tightly. However, in that situation he didn't. And he remembered being in the exact same position once before. Right in that moment, it was the only comfort he had, Jeremy was keeping him close, steady and still. It was exactly what he needed, James realized. He closed his eyes again, and tried to sink back into sleep.

The next time he opened his eyes, his head didn't feel any better. He noticed that Jeremy had shifted slightly, but the grip around his waist still stayed the same. His right hand was gently squeezing James'.

The last time Jeremy had held him like this, James had beaten himself up, pulled at his own hair. What if he had done this again? Was it the same reason ... James wanted to ask him, after all he didn't remember the night. “Why?” James was startled by his own voice, it was far too rough to belong to him.

“Hmm?”

To answer Jeremy, he simply gave his hand a squeeze. “Oh!” Jeremy eased his grip. Then he gently pushed James on his back and reached across him. “Here,” he mumbled and helped him take a few sips out of the glass.

“You were fidgeting the whole night,” Jeremy explained after James had finished drinking. “You couldn't sleep, but wanted and needed to. Well, I know that holding you like that and applying pressure here ...” Gently he dug his thumb into the palm of James' hand. “... helps to relief stress. So I thought it might work with this as well.”

James nodded, he was relieved by that explanation. The last time Jeremy had held him like that was after Richard's accident. Back then he might have had a panic attack. He didn't know and they never talked about it. That's why Jeremy had held him so tightly back then … “Did I …?”

“No,” Jeremy answered quickly and kissed his hand. “You didn't. You were just turning all the time, because of the adrenaline I think.”

Soothingly he ran a hand through James' hair. “How are you feeling anyway?” Jeremy asked softly.

“Shit.” Jeremy had guessed that much.

 

* * *

 

After a very light breakfast – Jeremy had made sure that it was one that would stay in – James fell back asleep. This time he was alone in bed, and he didn't thrash around. Most of the adrenaline was gone. Jeremy had left the door open in case he needed anything, and then settled in the living room. The radio was softly playing and he was reading through the script for the next episode. They would need to do voice overs tomorrow.

However, James wasn't even able to leave the house on his own. Quietly he wondered if they should move some lines, after all James' misfortune hadn't reached the yellow press yet. Jeremy was glad about that. Maybe some journalist had heard the news, but _Car Show Presenter Gets Stung by Bee_ didn't really sound like a thrilling headline; especially considering that they didn't even have pictures.

“Hey.” Jeremy looked up and saw James at the bottom of the stairs. He looked very sleepy and exhausted. Jeremy noticed from the way James held himself that he was hurting.

“Hey, I thought you were asleep,” Jeremy muttered, putting the glasses and script aside.

“It hurts,” was James' reply as he slowly made his way towards the sofa.

“What hurts?”

“Bones.”

Jeremy looked at him sadly. “Come here,” he mumbled and opened his arms for him. He was lying lengthwise on the sofa and let James settle between his legs. James lay down on Jeremy's stomach and wrapped his arms around his waist.

“It's fine.” Jeremy gently kissed the top of his head, and kept one arm around him. He watched as James lay his head onto his shoulder and let out a breath. He noticed that some of the stiffness seemed to leave James' body.

They quietly stayed like this for a long time. Jeremy was going through the script, always making sure that James was comfortable. Meanwhile, James enjoyed the only comfort he had: Jeremy. The warm body under him and the strong arm which was protectively wrapped around his shoulders.

They really had to reschedule that recording session.

 


	61. Cricket

In the end it had been May’s idea. They had come to the last village before the Indian-Chinese boarder and found a small village. The locals played their rudimentary version of cricket. James smiled at that and sought out eye-contact with Jeremy. However, his eyes were caught on the bonnet of his Jaguar. Hence, the neat little idea was born. He jumped out of his car, got Hammond to stop, collect some cans and explained quickly  to Jeremy what he wanted to do. He was talking too fast, but luckily along the lines Clarkson had learnt to understand “May” and was onto his idea.

The game was taking place and shaping up nicely. There were some language barriers but they could all be overcome. Nobody pretended to be smarter than the other, nobody pretended to know more about cricket than the other party. Hence, the game worked perfectly, fun commenced and James was too delighted. He was flushed and grinned from ear to ear when the last can hit the ground. There was cheering and clapping.

 _This really was a wonderful day_ , James mused. The night before had been horrible, however, seeing Jeremy hand over one of the cans filled with ash and making friends where they didn't even realize people could still live, made it worthwhile.

“Thank you,” James heard Clarkson’s voice and shook the younger man's hand. “See you in a year.”

The crew was clapping and the locals joined in. There wasn't a face that wasn't smiling. Jeremy turned and walked towards James, stopping next to him. Both looked at the locals who tried to find a place for the can. “That was a wonderful idea, May,” Jeremy said after a while.

James nodded. “Thanks.”

“It really was.”

“You're being nice. That's weird.”

Jeremy laughed and patted his back. “Well, you almost froze to death last night … so I thought I'd try it.”

James shook his head. It was true, when James had been walking out of his tent towards the Bentley that might be a little warmer, he had thought that he would die from the cold. He had tripped and ended up face down somewhere in the dark, with no sense of direction. Luckily, Clarkson hadn't been able to sleep as well and had heard the grunt. Jeremy had called out to figure out who was outside his tent, and then James had seen a flash of light.

“Jeremy?” James had whispered quietly and he soon found strong hands lifting him onto his feet. “I'm really uncomfortable.”

Jeremy had kissed the top of his head, and without saying another word, led him to his tent. They had piled the thin blankets together and Jeremy had spooned up with James.

They hadn't cared whether anyone might have seen, they were accompanied by crew members they could trust and who knew about their relationship anyway. It wasn't the first time that they had shared sleeping space during the long trips, and it probably wouldn't be the last either.

“Being nice doesn't suit you,” James teased. He took a deep breath. “Hungry?”

“Starving.”

The crew had already filed into the small place where food was served. No one even dared to call it a restaurant. However, the vibe was wonderful. There was enough food – although Hammond touched none of it – laughter, some beer (not that they could drink a lot), even music. The wonderful mood that had been created outside had traveled inside as well. After a while, James felt confined in the small space. He left the table, planning to have a smoke outside. Jeremy noticed his absence soon enough, but didn't worry. The room was small, and even Jeremy felt that it was a bit too crowded.

Meanwhile, James was leaning against the outside of the building, enjoying the quietness, and smoking. He would rejoin the group after finishing this cigarette, he told himself. The door opened to reveal Jeremy just as James was stubbing out his cigarette.

“There you are.”

“Yeah, I was just about ---” The rest of his sentence was cut off when Jeremy kissed him. He pressed James against the wall and moved one of his legs between James'. James didn't even protest, he had missed this too much. He moved his own hands to the back of Jeremy's neck and pulled him closer.

Considering their week from hell, where nearly everything had gone wrong, this was easily the best moment. There hadn't been a chance to even be near Jeremy. Only last night, when he had feared that he might freeze to death. The closest they had come to kissing had been when they were woken up the next morning, by a camera no less.

Jeremy had spooned with James, his face buried in the nape of James' neck. They had been woken roughly, mostly by laughter. Jeremy had kissed the back of James' neck and had shown a certain finger to whoever was holding the camera. James had found himself laughing, and had wanted to kiss Jeremy, to hold him, and _oh dear god_ he had wanted to fuck him. Nothing had happened though, they just had to get up. It wasn't the first time there was footage of them as a couple in the _Top Gear_ archives, and they didn't care. It was always edited out.  


“You did good,” Jeremy spoke as they broke apart. Their foreheads were still touching, eyes closed.

“Mmh, I've missed this,” James muttered while Jeremy's finger was gently rubbing along his jawline.

“Don't get used to it.”

“No, not the praise - is nice though – this.” James kissed Jeremy again, this time leaning more weight against Jeremy than onto the wall.

“Ah that. Me too.” And before there was another chance to steal more kisses, they heard steps and voices, getting louder by the second. Jeremy pushed away from the wall and stood next to James, smiling at him.

Two crew-members and a native joined them outside, heading for the Range Rover and then inspected every detail of it.

“London,” Jeremy whispered to James, before turning towards the door to head back inside.

James nodded, yes London was good. It was safe and quiet, and they would have all the time in the world. Then James could hold Jeremy, kiss Jeremy, and finally spread Jeremy's legs apart and make Jeremy his.

But when they finally came home and fell into bed together, they slept for ten hours instead.

 


	62. Fish

“Fuck,” James groaned. He barely managed to walk up the stairs. Jeremy had sleepily made his way to the bedroom. A weak smile formed on his face as he saw that Jeremy was already asleep. The blanket was draped over his hips, and his face was buried in the pillow. His breath was deep and regular. James slipped out of his jeans and didn't bother to change his shirt. Jeremy was still wearing his shirt as well, and when James sneaked under the sheets he discovered that Jeremy had also dressed down to his boxers.

With a sigh he cuddled closer to Jeremy, noticing his partner's arms wrapped loosely around him. He felt a kiss on the top of his head. Smiling, James kissed Jeremy's chest. His hands wandered to Jeremy's hips and then underneath his shirt. His smile grew even bigger when he felt Jeremy's wonderful warmth.

“James, I know I said London.” Jeremy yawned. “But … really, I can't.”

“Neither can I.” James shook his head. “I just … I've missed you.”

As a reply Jeremy nodded, kissing the top of his head again and tightened his grip. This time he kept James trapped. “Good?” he muttered.

“Very,” James replied, closing his eyes. He just wanted to feel Jeremy's skin. James pulled a little closer and nested his head on Jeremy's chest. Soon, James felt Jeremy's breathing return to the deep and regular rhythm from before. It didn't take long for him to follow suit.

 

* * *

 

James woke up when he felt a soft paw step on his face. A rather idiotic smile formed on his lips as he realised that Fusker was trying to wake him up. “Hmm?” he hummed and the cat backed down again. His hands were still under Jeremy's shirt, holding onto his body.

Carefully James shifted, which was quite difficult with Jeremy's arms hugging him so tightly. That only made James smile more, no wonder the man usually left an escape route for him.

When James shifted his weight for the second time, the grip slowly lessened. “Shh.” James gently ran his along Jeremy's back. “Go back to sleep.”

James kissed Jeremy softly on the lips. He watched as the man turned over and then he replaced himself with a pillow. Jeremy hugged it and rested his head on it.

“I do love you,” James told him. Then he turned to Fusker who was waiting by the door.

He sleepily followed the cat downstairs. It led him to the kitchen, where the curtains weren't drawn. While James rubbed his eyes, he realised that it was morning. He fed the cat and petted its head. Then he leaned against the cupboard, wanting nothing more than to go back to bed. They had only returned home four hours ago, which was nowhere near enough for a good rest. James sighed and put the kettle on.

With two cups of tea he padded back up the stairs. He placed one on Jeremy's side and his half empty one on his own. Sitting at the edge of the bed, he watched Jeremy. The blanket was now pooled around his ankles, and he was lying on his back. He had rested his head on one of his arms, while the other hugged the pillow that had replaced James.

James removed the replacement and rested his head on Jeremy's chest. It didn't take long until he felt Jeremy's arm back on his shoulder. It also didn't take long until James fell asleep again.

 

* * *

 

A shift in the breathing under him. A slight movement of legs. James pulled closer and took a deep breath as well. His eyes were still closed when he felt a hand running through his hair.

“Jezza,” he muttered sleepily and could barely bring himself to open his eyes.

“May,” Jeremy replied just as sleepily. Then James heard Jeremy put the mug aside and felt him kiss the top of his head. He turned slightly, taking James with him. Now they were lying side by side.

“What time is it?” James asked.

“You don't want to know,” came the sleepy reply.

“Maybe not,” James muttered and pressed his body along Jeremy's. He moved his leg back in between of Jeremy's.

Jeremy took a deep breath and wrapped his arms around James. “Maybe we should get out of bed,” he suggested. But neither his voice nor his actions seemed to indicate that he wanted to.

“No,” James replied and pulled even closer. He took a breath as he felt Jeremy pressing his crotch against his. Jeremy rolled his hips one, two, three times, and James felt their bodies respond, as both of them began to nurse erections. James hummed happily and closed his eyes in pleasure.

He felt Jeremy's grip around his shoulders tightened, and when he looked up he saw that Jeremy's eyes were closed. _Yes_ , James mused. This was what they had wanted to do when they returned. If only the trip hadn't been so exhausting.

Delicately, James' hands sneaked into Jeremy's pants. Jeremy's breath hitched in response. It was a slow and lazy movement, but it didn't take long for Jeremy's breathing to become heavier.

A quiet moan escaped Jeremy, and he threw his head back. Then James felt Jeremy's hand sneaking down between them.

James slapped it away. “No,” he muttered against Jeremy's chest. Instead the hand then to rest on his hips. James took the hint and slipped his own pants down, only enough to expose his cock.

Jeremy hummed happily and kissed James. His hand cupped James' face. James moved forward and then took them both in his hand, beginning a lazy stroke.

A low moan escaped Jeremy and he buried his face in James' shoulder. “God. Please,” he muttered. James' rolled his hips, which had the desired effect of drawing another sweet noise out of Jeremy.

Jeremy's hips began to move in the same rhythm. It didn't take much more until Jeremy threw his head back in delight. His nails dug into James' hips. Soon, James felt warm semen run down his hand. He joined Jeremy only a few strokes later.

Not really wanting to get up, James simply wiped his hand on Jeremy's boxer, and then pulled up his own boxer again.

“But now we should get out of bed,” Jeremy muttered as he dug his head in the soft spot between James' neck and shoulder.

“Maybe,” James replied as he wrapped his arms around Jeremy.

“What do you want to eat?”

“Fish and Chips,” James suggested.

“Okay.” Though neither of them moved.

It only took a few minutes until Jeremy fell asleep again, and James joined him a short time later. He had never planned on leaving the bed anyway.

 

* * *

 

James woke up for what would hopefully be the last time that day. He rolled onto his back and was greeted by the soft purr of his cat. Fusker decided to accept the unplanned, unspoken invitation, and jumped onto his chest, purring happily.

“Cat,” he greeted the ball of fur. Then he noticed the empty spot beside him, and the fact that he wasn't wearing his pants.

“Jeremy?” he called out. The man had to be up, unless he had fallen off the bed and stayed on the floor, continuing to sleep. If James was being honest, that scenario didn't seem unlikely.

However, he soon heard heavy thuds coming up the stairs.

“Morning, James,” he muttered and rubbed his face. He was wearing jeans, a shirt and an open button-up on top. But he still looked a little sleepy. “Though morning doesn't fit any longer.”

“Why? What time is it?”

“Just after 1 PM.” Jeremy sat down at the edge of the bed.

“Fucking hell. That's ten hours we've slept,” James sighed. He tried to sit up and being given the stink eye by Fusker he managed such.

“What's that?” James pointed at the plastic bag Jeremy had carried up.

“Fish and Chips.” Jeremy handed him one of the cardboard boxes. “You said you wanted them after …”

“Yeah, that.” A slight blush began to creep onto James' face.

“Was nice, I have to admit.” Jeremy kissed the top of his head.

“Speaking of which ...” James began as he picked a chip. “Where did my pants go?”

“Oh.” Jeremy cleared his throat and began to pick around in his own food. “Well, they were a bit … erm, sticky. I put them into the laundry basket.”

James let out a laugh and shook his head. “Fair enough.”

 


	63. Ancient

James wasn't sure when it had happened. This routine between him and Jeremy. They simply spent their nights together, regardless of their nocturnal activities, just sharing a living space. Even though Jeremy had the flat in London, the house in Chipping Norton, and James had his own house in Hammersmith, they found that they were living together, spreading their lives over their different spaces. It was no longer a question of _Are you free tonight? Do you want to spend the night with me?_ Now it had become a question of _At who's place will we be staying?_

Even when Jeremy had his flock of children, he had never minded when James stayed over as well. They were old enough that they no longer required constant care, and James liked them too.

It must have happened slowly, over the years. With a toothbrush being placed in James' bathroom and just stayed there. With one being placed in Jeremy's bathroom, and when James had forgotten to get one for his house, finding a new one with a small post-it attached.

Then James had noticed that a bunch of Jeremy's clothes had wandered into his chest of drawers. He hadn't minded, at least not once he had cleared a few drawers and sorted Jeremy's clothes decently.

Or maybe it started earlier, when he had found one of Jeremy's shirts in his wash bag.

It was also true the other way round: as Jeremy's shirts slowly settled in James' house, a bunch of flowery and stripy shirts had joined the Clarkson household. It had gone so far that while packing for a trip Jeremy had ended up wearing one James' shirts.

James didn't mind. Nothing had warmed his heart more than coming back to London after two weeks of constant filming. Automatically and without thinking he had driven to Holland Park - not Hammersmith - to find Jeremy sound asleep on the sofa wearing his pink and purple rugby shirt. James had been reluctant to give it up, but without saying much or mentioning to Jeremy that he had actually noticed that, he had giving Jeremy the blue rugby shirt. Sometimes Jeremy wore it to bed.

It happened so often that one of them would come back after a shoot or a day in the office. Then he wouldn't go home to an empty bed. Instead he'd end up at the other's home and sneak into bed. James had never minded. He liked waking up next to the warm body that was Jeremy Clarkson. Jeremy seemed to welcome that.

James couldn't tell when this had started. Maybe when one day Jeremy had stayed over only to fall asleep on the couch while James made a late lunch. He hadn't had it in his heart to wake Jeremy up. James had simply turned the television off and covered him with a blanket. At some point in the night, Jeremy must have woken up and made himself snug on James' chest. James was only too aware that Jeremy liked to stay there.

Somehow the almost ancient ritual of wondering whether the other was free that night had been replaced by the choice to only ever spend the night apart if it was impossible to be together.

James didn't simply enjoy that. He loved it. He loved Jeremy's constant presence. He loved that Jeremy brought him tea when he was writing. He loved that he was able to bring Jeremy tea in turn, when he was bogged down writing. He loved finding Jeremy's shirts between his own, even if it meant that he had gone to a studio recording wearing his once or twice. Jeremy had done the same. He loved waking up next to Jeremy each morning and he loved falling asleep next to Jeremy every night.

He loved the idea of doing this for a long time to come.

 


	64. Piano

Jeremy ran a hand over his face. He was completely defeated of the constant blinking for the courser. The words just didn't want to come. He had driven this utterly brilliant, and yet fantastic car. Everything he wanted to write sounded wrong. It would go so far that he used the word _superb_.

“The breaks are superb. The interior trim is superb.” That sounded … rubbish! He sounded like _Autocar,_ and he would rather pause a week than sound like that. What a horrible notion.

Writer's Block. Jeremy was aware that this existed. He had had it a few times before, but it had never been this bad. His strategy was to write something totally unconnected to whatever he was working on – wasting his crap words on something that wasn't important until he got back into the flow. He had tried that, it hadn't worked.

But then James noticed that he sat too stiff while writing, or that he looked at the screen for too long without typing a single word. James didn't commented on it, didn't provided any tips. God knows, he suffered from Writer's Block too. But sometimes, Jeremy would suddenly find a cup of tea or coffee sitting near his laptop or feet. Jeremy was incredibly grateful for that.

But they had appeared two days ago, and still there was nothing. They hadn't helped.

Instead Jeremy had chosen to switch surroundings. He did that from time to time. In Chipping Norton, he sat locked in in his little office. In his London flat, he sat at the kitchen table, or on the sofa. In James' house, he usually occupied the sofa as well. But this time, he had borrowed James' office. After all the man didn't need it, having already finished his own column, the smug bastard …

Then he had tried music, listening to _Blur_ or _Supertramp_ to jog his brain, thinking that a steady beat in his ears would inspire him, or would help his fingers to follow that beat as well. It hadn't … his iPod had been thrown out of the office not long after that. Rubbish, everything! It had been years since he had last had a block this bad.

Even though he adored the car he had driven no other word than “superb” entered his mind … If it had been a rubbish car he may have never suffered from Writer's Block. He could always curse about rubbish cars, about the plastic interior, about a door that sounded like a wet fart when closed …

Jeremy sighed and leaned back on the office chair. “Type!” he instructed himself. Nothing …

Again he let out a long sigh and leaned back. “WHY!” he shouted at his laptop, ready to throw it against the wall.

It didn't help him that the deadline was tomorrow of course. … Rubbish, all rubbish. Maybe he could just write mean things about the car. Call it crap and leave it at that. Naturally his inner journalist was protesting strongly against that. “Just type,” he commanded himself.

Carefully he set off, making an introduction. He had found the car on his drive, as usual, keys in the letterbox. Okay, that was working … what were his first impressions when he had gotten back home, completely knackered? He had thought it was nice. _Fuck!_ He couldn't just use nice! There had to be a better word for it.

“Fuck it,” he then muttered, realizing that he also couldn't put in that the keys were normally in his postbox. After all that thing was easy to break, and then everyone would be able to drive about with a 100,000 pound car whenever they fancied. A whole paragraph gone again …

He had to call _The Sunday Times_ that he couldn't make it in time. He'd tell them about the car next week. Maybe he would have regained his writing skills by then.

Just as he reached for his phone he heard a note. _Not now …_ Jeremy thought to himself. He really couldn't use a piano piece by Bach. He was trying to write. But then again, if he was being honest with himself, he wasn't really trying that any more. He was on the verge of giving up.

It took a few minutes until Jeremy noticed that James wasn't playing Bach. He was playing Prog Rock. Jeremy laughed to himself and put the phone aside. He should just try …

Jeremy cracked his fingers and began to type, carefully at first, wanting to create a perfect beginning. With an inner James May and some Prog Rock in his ears he set off to type the first paragraph. How he had received the car: No need for the letter box this time, and he was finally able to come up with better words than _nice_ and _superb._ Superb was a horrible word, he decided.

Sadly halfway through he had run out of words again. He had written about the car, how it rode. How he loved to whisk it around a winding road. How he would have loved nothing more than to take it to the Alps to incredible twisting bends of the mountain roads and push it to its limits. And how he wouldn't have minded if he had been killed doing that. Then he was done. All praise was sung, the small faults were mentioned, the experience written down. He had filled his page. Still, it seemed to lack something. The passion that he usually managed to write into it. It just wasn't there …

James was still playing the piano, and Jeremy followed the sounds. James was sitting, eyes closed, mouthing words of songs Jeremy recognised. A weak smile formed on Jeremy's lips. He wondered if James had intended to be heard by him.

Somehow there nothing that made Jeremy swoon more than watching James play. He was passionate, engrossed in the task, and his long fingers ran across the keys producing sounds, an entire song, he was making himself vulnerable in an unusual way. And of course it was hot, even though Jeremy couldn't explain why.

Jeremy walked up behind James and gently put a hand on his shoulder, making him aware of his presence. James opened his eyes and turned his head to looked at him, a smile on his lips. He didn't stop playing, not even as Jeremy took the opportunity to kiss him softly.

“Thank you,” Jeremy muttered and sat down on the little bench next to James. There was just enough space for the two of them to not fall off.

James finished the song. “Welcome,” he replied and leaned against Jeremy. Jeremy wrapped his arms around James' waist as if it were the most natural thing. Then James added, “since you got it fixed I thought I'd thank you for it.” Jeremy smiled weakly and nodded.

Thanks to some builders in the house the piano had become a loose pile of wood and strings. James had tried to make light of it, that it didn't even matter that much and repairing it would cost a fortune. The nearest person who could fix it lived on the other side of Britain. It would have been cheaper to throw it out and buy a new one. However, James had very sentimental reasons to adore this piano, even though he didn't want to admit that.

Instead he had asked Jeremy to throw it away for him, saying he'd buy a new one when he had the time. Jeremy, being Jeremy, hadn't listened to him and had driven through Britain while James was away filming. He had gotten it fixed, paid a fortune and driven it back to Hammersmith.

A few days later Jeremy had picked James up from the airport to show him the surprise.

Never before had Jeremy actually seen James cry, or even shed tears of joy. However, James had just stared at the piano that was now fixed and sobbed quietly into Jeremy's chest, thanking him over and over. Jeremy's heart had never flipped so much and he had never felt more protective of him.

 

“Didn't know you could do Prog Rock,” Jeremy said while he was busy burying his head into James' shoulder.

“I can play everything,” James stated smugly. “Did you write something?”

“Yeah, thanks. It lacks the bite but it's good enough if I don't manage it.”

“That's good.” James kissed the top of his head.

“I've never been blocked this badly,” Jeremy explained. “Don't understand it.”

James sighed. He knew only too well what was bothering Jeremy. “Too many things on your mind.”

It wasn't just the Writer's Block. Lately Jeremy hadn't been able to relax at all and that was something he needed to write. His insomnia hadn't been this bad since the divorce either. Jeremy had even admitted it himself. Other things had slowed down as well, at least temporarily. But James understood and didn't want to make any moves. He knew that this would only bring Jeremy into an awkward position he'd never get out of.

“Huh?”

“With the papers …” James reminded him gently. James sneaked his hand into Jeremy's and gave it a slight squeeze. Jeremy huffed and dug his head into James' shoulder. The media were really outdoing themselves this time.

“They always write shit. It's just that it's really big shit this time,” Jeremy stated, but his words were still lacking their usual bite, their conviction. Instead he dug his head into James' shoulder. “It's such a mess.” For the first time Jeremy sounded defeated.

“It isn't,” James tried to comfort him, gently wrapping his other arm around Jeremy.

“It is. I get blamed for shit Richard said on the show. I get shit for wanting to have a private life. Alex sells her lies, shitting me big time. I get shit for driving a car. I get shit for making a car show.” Jeremy sighed and shook his head. “Even when I try to do something right, I do it wrong.”

“You don't,” James insisted. “It just sells better. That's the thing about biased journalism. It's not about making lies up, but about leaving certain facts out. You know that. Is that what is bothering you?”

“No more than usual. But Alex - that bitch - is bothering me,” Jeremy admitted, frustrated. “What have I ever done that caused her to become so hateful? How much does she actually hate me? We got a divorce, fine. Why can't she leave it at that? At first she demands money, then I gag her. Then she goes on the web and I undo the gag because what was the fucking point anyway …?”

James gave him a tight squeeze. He still remembered very clearly when he had found Jeremy, hands shaking, panic in his voice, as he explained that Alex was blackmailing him. James had just held him tightly and promised in a soothing voice that they'd figure something out.

“Who knows what kind of story she will spin should we become public … _I knew he was gay because we never had sex. That's why I couldn't stand the marriage. Apart from those 7 years where I cheated with him. Then he always wanted to fuck me in the arse while we weren't fucking. No we were.”_

James laughed despite himself. Jeremy gave him an annoyed look. “Sorry,” James muttered because he knew that he shouldn't have found it so funny.

“Listen, Alex's creditability isn't high.” That was the only good thing about this affair. She was spinning her stories and along the way ended up disagreeing with herself, tripping over her own web of lies. “It's all dying down. Just behave for the next month and it'll smooth out.”

“Okay,” Jeremy mumbled and pressed against James, head buried in his shoulder. “Goes against anything I am but I can try.”

James shook his head and kissed his curls. “Good.”

“Do you take requests?” Jeremy asked after a while. It was clear to James that the soft sounds from the piano were relaxing Jeremy.

“Sure.” James let Jeremy rest on his shoulder. It didn't bother him, he could still play with him resting there. “What do you want, good sir?”

“Can you do _Hide In Your Shell?_ ”

James smiled; he new that this was Jeremy's favourite. “Sure.”

Things smoothed out within the next month. Alex was no longer mentioned when Jeremy caused another headline, and in an odd way, Jeremy had seen this as a victory.

Jeremy learnt to relax not only by listening to James playing, but he also consented to being taught a few pieces to play for himself. James picked out easy pieces for him at first, and then moved on to something more difficult. By the time the newspapers had gotten bored with the story and turned to other things, Jeremy had only managed _That's All_ and it stayed with only this one piece. The passion returned to his writing and to other areas as well … James was thrilled by that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hide in Your Shell - Supertramp // That's All - Genesis ; in case anyone is curious :)


	65. Name

Jeremy sighed and leaned back on the bed. The day of shooting was done, it had been very exhausting. James had already showered and was now curled up on the bed. His legs were tucked under his chin, and although he hadn't slipped under the blanket yet, he seemed to be sound asleep already.

Las Vegas, Jeremy smiled. It was too hot, there was too much cheese on everything edible, the city never to sleep (except when James May was in it, apparently) and it was a wonderful sight to behold when you came out of the desert. He used to love it.

Now however, you only got stuck in traffic, there was a fat man shouting at you everywhere, and there were so many tourists that someone had probably had sex in the same bed, probably with the same bedding that James was drooling on now. And would they see him and James holding hands it wouldn’t take long until they’d be dragged to a dark corner and get beaten up … again. Jeremy winced at the memory.

Since he was still unable to sleep, he took his phone out and went on Twitter. Sadly, there wasn't anything worth replying to, or worth leaving an opinion about.

Casually he looked to his right, considering getting some sleep as well. Instead he looked up James’ profile on Twitter, typing in “@MrJamesMay” and then seeing a picture of the man pop up in the search. He sighed, he still wasn’t following Jeremy. Not that it mattered much. He had the real James May at his side, after all. And he knew that James was mostly teasing. But still “Why don’t you love me?” he asked quietly.

“But I do,” James replied lazily and turned over. Jeremy smiled softly, he bent down and kissed him.

“Why aren’t you following me then?” He pretended to be hurt.

James smiled smugly and shook his head. “Prove to me that it’d be worth it,” he challenged him. “Now, come to bed, get some sleep.”

Jeremy let out a sigh and nodded. He slid under the sheets and tucked James in as well. Gently he wrapped his arm around James’ hip and kissed the nape of his neck. The hair which was growing longer and longer tickled his nose. “What if I change my name to @MrsJamesMay?”

“I’d consider it,” James replied, laughing.

 

* * *

  
The next morning during breakfast Jeremy found a way to warm James’ heart. They were discussing the perfect breakfast and soon Jeremy took a photo of him and tweeted. “People of America. THIS is literally everything a man wants at lunchtime.” James shook his head when he saw the tweet.

“Clarkson,” he muttered quietly, obviously chuffed by it. Soon Jeremy received the notification saying “@MrJamesMay followed you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by this [tweet](https://twitter.com/JeremyClarkson/status/238987656707600384), and the fact that James started following Jeremy after he had tweeted it.


	66. Photograph

“Bugger!” was the first thing Clarkson heard in the morning. Jeremy rolled over towards his partner, who was sitting by the edge of the bed.

“What is it?” he asked, voice still hoarse from last night’s fags and wine. “Did your tweet not get enough notes?”

Jeremy stretched his legs, not yet ready to crawl out of bed. James didn't appear relaxed at all. He had been reading something, and handed his tablet over for Jeremy to see as well.

“What is it?” Jeremy asked.

_Bugger, indeed,_ Jeremy thought as he scanned the article. The photograph showed their visit to a pub the previous day. They were sitting outside, enjoying the sun, and flicking off the paps with the reversed V signs after ignoring them hadn't worked. But that wasn't what had caught his attention. The picture was harmless, just them messing around and laughing. But the headline sure managed to catch him off guard.  
  


“ _Enjoying Beer and More._

_Jeremy Clarkson (left) and his colleague James May (right) were spotted enjoying a pint. Motormouth Jeremy Clarkson (51) had been spotted with James May (48) at a Londoner pub. Both were wearing the trade-mark style jeans. Clarkson was sporting a blue shirt with a green jacket, while May was wearing a beige shirt._

_Both were seen drinking an alcoholic beverage, while chatting and laughing. They were enjoying their evening together and were found leaning close to each other. Clarkson hadn't been seen with a mistress for years, but with his friend May. It begs the question if he has skipped sides, as the two seemed to enjoy more than just a beer,”_ Jeremy read out loud. “What a load of bullshit?” he protested and sighed while his eyes kept scanning the page. “I mean it’s true, but it’s still bullshit.”

James couldn’t help but laugh. They had never been very careful at hiding their relationship, but then they never were affectionate in public either. Yes, their journey to the pub had been part of a date – afterwards they had gone to watch a film (Jeremy thought it superb, James not so much) – then they settled in Hammersmith and spent the night together, but at no time had they kissed, held hands or even shared physical contact out of the ordinary.

It had taken James a while to be fully comfortable with their physicality in private, it was out of the question to be that affectionate in public as well.

“This is spun out of nothing,” Jeremy simply stated and sat up, he nudged James’ side, seeing that he was beating himself up. “Also it’s the _M_ _irror_ they’re even worse than the Daily Mail. Not even I’d go that low.”

Then Jeremy put the iPad aside and wrapped his arms around James’ waist instead. He rested his head on James' shoulder. “Soft,” he muttered as he buried his head in the nape of his neck.

James laughed gently, feeling the warmth and the slight stubble. He let out a sigh and rested against Jeremy. “It’s still true,” James replied after awhile.

“Yes, but there is no proof. It won’t go far,” Clarkson mumbled into James’ neck and pressed a kiss on the scar on his shoulder. “It’s just a photo of us enjoying a drink. Not us fucking last night.”

James nodded and leaned further into Clarkson’s touch. “Hope you’re right, Jezza.”

“I am always right!” And indeed he had been.

While the photo was passed on on the internet and fans loved seeing them having a drink together, the rumour of them being a gay couple was left behind.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could feel my brain-cells dying while writing this “article”


	67. Camouflage

While they walked to the car, Jeremy still maintained that his scooter was the most brilliant thing ever to be invented. James tried to cheer for his own little off-roader as well, but Jeremy was quick to point out that it didn't work very well off road, or on the road and anywhere else for the matter.

“Did you ever manage to make it up the tiniest incline?” Jeremy teased while fishing for his keys. James rolled his eyes and leaned against the Range Rover.

“You are the last person to make jokes,” he began, and when Jeremy raised his eyebrows he went on. “Your _brilliant_ camouflage didn’t do you any favours either. Or your legs.”

At that comment James saw the taller man wince. His bird-watching tent would produce a lot of laughs, but it hadn’t done his shins any good when he had almost been wedged between his scooter and a fence.

“That was only for laughs.” Trying to shrug off the matter, he produced his keys and unlocked the car. James rolled his eyes, but before he was able to protest, Jeremy interrupted: “and if Stephen Hawking is done bickering, I might even give him a lift.”

James was nowhere near done bickering, but he climbed into Jeremy’s car nevertheless. “It wasn’t for laughs,” he mumbled while buckling up. A laugh started to build up in his throat when he saw the look on Jeremy’s face. “It wasn’t. Admit it!”

“Never,” Jeremy replied after starting the engine. “Why do I even put up with you?”

James sensed the teasing and answered accordingly. “Because I’m good in bed.” Delighted he watched as Jeremy’s lips curled up in a smile and he nodded slowly.

“There is that.”

As soon as they reached the motorway, James stretched his legs and started to relax in the passenger seat. It would take hours to reach Jeremy’s house in Chipping Norton, so for now he enjoyed the rare silence between them.

Jeremy had volunteered to pick him up in the morning, desperate to spend some time together after they had barely seen each other during the previous weeks. They had had scheduling issues, shooting different locations, and they had been careful to avoid the extra attention they had gained after the _Daily Mirror_ had spun a story about their pub visit.

But they rarely held hands anyway, they didn’t kiss in public, or did anything else than walk next to each other.

James smirked, it was a bit like Jeremy’s scooter with stealth mode on. It was quite visible, but who would take it seriously?

Since that story had appeared their movements were watched and judged _. Could it be? Gay May and Clarkson in a relationship?_ Luckily for them, the idea hadn't been picked up. Either people weren't interested enough or they didn’t believe it.

Sometimes James wished that it would just leak, the BBC knew, or at least some people in important positions, some of the Top Gear crew, their families, selected friends. Of course Richard Hammond and Andy Wilman knew as well, and James knew that they would show their support if they story ever got out.

At other times though, James wondered about the man next to him. He knew that Jeremy was as confident in their relationship as he was about everything he did, but James could tell that Jeremy would be uncomfortable about having their relationship dissected like that. He knew that Jeremy didn’t mind being in a relationship with James, he did mind that the media would make such a fuss about it. For all the wrong reasons; not for being in a relationship but being in one with a man.  _Have you given up on women now? Are you gay?_ The whole media would focus on their gender. James knew why Jeremy dreaded that, the tabloids already hated him and managed to turn everything around in a horrible way. Furthermore, both of them valued their privacy too much. 

“How are the shins?” James asked to break the silence and stop his thoughts from wandering.

Jeremy shifted in his seat. “Aching a little. Had worse.” He shrugged his shoulders.

James rolled his eyes and nodded. “Yeah, broke your thumbs.”

“That for example.”

“I can drive the rest of the way,” James offered. After all, his day had been less stressful than Jeremy's.

“No, better not,” Jeremy replied swiftly. “I would like to get home today.”

James snorted and shook his head. “Fine by me,” he replied and fell back into his seat. “Your camouflage is still stupid.”

“Is not!”

 


	68. Dance

It started with one pint of beer and a glass of rosé. That then turned into more beer and more wine. Later on, whiskey and vodka was added to the mix. Outside, the heat of the day was slowly fading, but here in the bar the three of them were still sweating. They were buzzed from their _Top Gear Live_ tour and pleasantly drunk on the alcohol provided.

Jeremy always laughed when Richard slurred any words. It got so bad that he had almost spit out his drink. James had put his hand on Jeremy's thigh and pressed down hard. A small yelp escaped him, James wasn't sure whether that was due to the surprise or the pain, but it worked. Jeremy shut up.

“I'm more sober than you!” Richard defended himself.

“You are not!” Jeremy shouted over the music.

“We can hold it better, we're bigger after all,” James added and downed the rest of his beer.

Quickly Jeremy giggled and shook his head, trying not to laugh. “And taller too.” James could only roll his eyes in response.

“Grow up, Clarkson.” Richard pointed an accusing finger at them. “Prove it, old man. Both of you.”

“Do you want us to say the alphabet backwards?”

“Come on, Clarkson. You can't even do that sober,” James teased him.

“That hurt, man.” Jeremy pretended to be for sad for a moment, but it was cut short when he had to burst out laughing. “It's true, but still.”

Richard was just shaking his head. “Now, listen you old men!” he shouted over the music. As soon as their drunken eyes were set on him again, Richard tilted his head towards the Karaoke machine.

“Fucking hell. No!” Jeremy protested quickly, he took a longer drink of his rosé. “May has a nice voice. He sings while sho--- AH!” He let out another yelp as James pressed his hand painfully in his thigh. “I sound like stabbed cat!”

“But if you're all sober, then I'm sure you'll know the lyrics to a song,” Richard dared them and set down his Gin 'n' Tonic.

James let out a grunt and then turned to Jeremy. They both hated singing in public, they even hated singing in front of each other! However … letting Richard win an argument was far worse than being rubbish at karaoke.

“We can always say that we were drunk,” Jeremy muttered.

“We are, you pillock!” James gave his thigh a squeeze and stumbled to the man who was running the karaoke machine.

“Right ...” Then he turned to Richard. “You're fucked mate!”

“I hope not the same way you two are.” As a reply Jeremy just showed him a certain finger. Then he stumbled towards May, quickly followed by Hammond.

“I want to have first row seats,” Richard explained and seated himself at the closest table.

Jeremy handed over James' beer, and then followed his partner to the small stage, where they had to share a microphone. “Wait.” He turned to James. “What song did you pick?” he slurred.

“You'll see.” James winked at him.

At that moment the music began to play. The tune was very familiar, and a bright smile spread across Jeremy's face as he recognised _Supertramp_. He and James began to sing, and, if they were being truthful, it was awful. The alcohol didn't helped, they were swaying, singing off tune and drunkenly shouted some lines. Jeremy hadn't even come close to doing the song any justice, and James had fared little better.

 

* * *

 

An hour later, after being smug to Richard and consuming more beer, they had somehow managed to stumble into their hotel room. Jeremy had had a few too many, and James was more sober than him. Or at least less drunk. Jeremy followed him into the room, still mouthing the words of _Hide In Your Shell._

“ _You're looking for someone to give a …”_

“Jeremy ...” James tried to cut in as he put the key on the night stand.

“ _What you see just an illusion. You're surrounded by confusion.”_ Jeremy followed and drunkenly slipped out of his shoes. _“Saying life's begun to cheat, friends are out to beat you. Grab on to what you can scramble for.”_

“Jeremy, man.” James stepped in front of him, stopping him from swaying. He gently put his hands on Jeremy's chest. “Clarkson, stop it. Or I might stop loving you.”

“Rude.” Pulling a sad face, he nodded a little bit. James quickly kissed him, grabbed the stupid hat and then went off to the bathroom. He quickly brushed his teeth, slipping out of his jeans and shirt, and put his own stupid hat aside.

“ _I want to know, I want to know you,”_ he heard Jeremy's soft voice through the hotel room. Of course Jeremy wouldn't stop. He was drunk after all.James walked back, seeing that Jeremy was only wearing his sweats.

“ _Well let me know you. I want to feel you. I want to touch you,”_ he kept on singing, his voice a little clearer as he saw James. _“Please let me near you. Can you hear what I'm saying?”_

This time he looked directly at James. _“Well I'm hoping, I'm dreamin', I'm prayin' I know what you're thinkin'. See what you're seein' Never ever let yourself go.”_ His foot was gently drumming on the floor, trying to keep a steady rhythm, but he didn't quite manage it. James knew that the drink played no part there, Jeremy wouldn't be able to do it when sober either.

“ _Hold yourself down, hold yourself down. Why d'ya hold yourself down? Why don't you listen, you can Trust me,”_ Jeremy sang a little louder. _“There's a place I know the way to. A place there is need to feel you. Feel that you're alone.”_

“ _Hear me I know exactly what you're feelin' 'Cause all your troubles are within you. Please begin to see that I'm just bleeding too.”_ Jeremy stumbled a little as he walked towards James. He took his hand in his and slowly began to sway with him. James just let him, in all honesty he enjoyed this.

“ _Love me, love you. Loving is the way to help me, help you. Why must we be so cool, oh so cool,? Oh, we're such damn fools,”_ he finished quietly, his drunken eyes looking at James. James wasn't sure what Jeremy wanted from him, so he just shook his head and kissed him.

“I knew there was reason to love you,” James muttered. He rested his hands on Jeremy's arms and gently man-handled him to the bed. “Get some sleep.” He pushed him down, pulled the covers over him, and crawled into bed next to him.

“I like that song,” Jeremy muttered as he begun to hug a pillow.

“I know.” James wrapped his arms around Jeremy's waist and kissed the back of his neck before closing his eyes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by this [tweet](https://twitter.com/JeremyClarkson/status/186090086838960128%20)


	69. Boot

Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock.

In moments like these the clock of the Top Gear office was too loud. And with Jeremy adding to the noise by tapping his pen on the desk, it was driving James mad.

“Stop it,” he insisted after a few minutes.

“What?” Jeremy wasn’t even aware of what he was doing. He had stopped tapping briefly to contemplate the question, then went back to it immediately.

James huffed and reached for Jeremy’s hand, grabbing it. “That.” The noise was successfully terminated.

Jeremy looked at James and nodded. He let out a breath, dropped the pen and leaned back in the chair. Yet he still didn't let go of James' hand. Instead he turned his own hand, intertwining their fingers and squeezed.

“We still need to fill half an hour,” Clarkson stated after a while, looking at their joined hands.

They had been stuck in the _Top Gear_ office since the morning, trying to dream up the script for their next film _The Worst Car in the History of the World_.

The idea had appeared a few months ago, but their deadline was coming closer and closer. To them, the answer was easy. They had stated in their second series that the Lexus SC 430 was the worst car they could think off. But that had aired a long time ago, and even with Dave reruns, people probably wouldn't remember. They had gone through a list of old cars which were rubbish. Then they included newer ones which were also rubbish, like the BMW X3. They had the ending, they had some bickering which the audience would enjoy. But they still lacked a decent middle part to fill the obligatory full hour.

“What about your Ford?” James asked after a while. So far they had discreetly gone past the cars they themselves had owned.

“What about it?”

“Well, it wasn’t superb.” At that comment Jeremy yanked his hand away from James’.

“Watch it, Slow! Do you want me to get started on your Porsche?”

And soon they were bickering about the cars they owned themselves. Which had been the worst, which were good, which did deserved to be trashed on a DVD. The conversation came to a sudden stop when Jeremy jokingly threatened: “I’ll lock you in the boot of your stupid Bentley if you touch my GT.”

Both stared at each other with wide eyes. _Y_ _es! That was an idea._

 


	70. Oil

They had told Hammond that they would go to bed early, and to stop him from asking any questions, they hinted that they'd be having sex. This had kept Richard in the bar long enough for James and Jeremy to sabotage the Viper.

Afterwards they had retreated to the room reserved for Clarkson. No one raised an eyebrow at that; the BBC had started to save money on room rent quite soon after they had acknowledged their relationship. It was generally only done in countries where it was deemed safe. Neither James nor Jeremy minded. In fact, they quite liked it. The trick to keep it from the public was James' namesake Iain. There was still one room reserved for Clarkson, and one for May. The difference was that Iain occupied the room for May, and James stayed with Jeremy.

Giggling, the two men sat down on the bed and shook their heads. “Hope that keeps him in last place.”

“Mhmm,” James agreed and reached across with his arm. Jeremy leaned into the touch and stretched his back.

“You know, what we told Hammond doesn't sound like a bad idea,” James suggested with a deep voice. He moved closer, gently pressing his face into Jeremy's neck and shoulder.

Jeremy huffed and wrapped an arm around James. He began to kiss him softly and hummed happily as he noticed that James responded in kind.

“Hmm, I'm tempted.” James already sensed the but, and it didn't take long. “But, I love that Lexus ...”

“You're leaving me” He crooked his head smiling, and kissed Jeremy softly. “For a car!”

“Well, not yet. But I fear it hurt my back,” Jeremy admitted, biting his lips.

James kissed Jeremy again, then crawled behind the taller man. “How bad is it?”

“What are you doing?” Jeremy asked, feeling James' hand wander underneath the shirt.

“Shh,” James hushed him and kissed the nape of his neck. “How bad?”

Jeremy resigned and let James remove his shirt. “Not bad, just a slight pull at the lower back,” he explained and felt James' hand wander to the spot. “Yeah, there.”

James was aware that it was the spot where the two discs had slipped years ago. Jeremy was right, he shouldn't do anything straining or it would only get worse.

Jeremy emitted a moan which he'd deny doing for the rest of his life when James skilfully began to work on the spot. Gently he massaged the area and around it. Then he wordlessly guided him to lie on his stomach. James straddled his hip and kissed both of his shoulder blades. Jeremy hummed softly and closed his eyes, relaxing while he surrendering to James.

First, James' hand gently moved over the line of his back first. He emitted a warmth that had been missing during the previous nights. Jeremy let out a sigh and relaxed more. James began to press his thumbs into the taut flesh from time to time. At first Jeremy went more tense, but soon James could see a small result. Jeremy let out a soft moan and rested his head in his arms.

“Good?” James asked and a nod was the answer. He trailed along the line of his backbone before he got off of Jeremy and crawled out of bed.

“Hey, where do you think you're going?” Jeremy protested, lifting his head as soon as he heard James' feet hit the ground.

“Get my camera, take a photo for the _Daily Mirror_ ,” James teased and told him to stay put as he went to the bathroom.

“Aha!” Jeremy heard James exclaim, and a few moments later he felt James' hip against his. It didn't take long until Jeremy discovered what James had been looking for. There was the click of a bottle opening, and then Jeremy felt an oily substance land on his back. He let out a soft hum as James' hands worked skilfully.

James smiled as he saw Jeremy relax more and more, his eyes closed, the knots in his muscles disappeared and his breathing slowed until it appeared that he was almost asleep.

“Jeremy?”

“Hmm?” came sleepily back.

“Better?”

“Very.”

“Sleep?” James asked gently, bending over Jeremy's body and kissed his cheek.

“Yeah.”

“I'll just clean that off,” he answered and kissed him again. Jeremy smiled and nodded, his eyes still closed. When James came back from the bathroom with a wet towel, Jeremy already appeared to be asleep.

Nevertheless, he managed to mutter, “thanks, love.”

“Sure.” The rest of the oil was cleaned off. Quickly James slipped into some sweat pants, and crawled to Jeremy into the bed with Jeremy. “Big spoon or little spoon?” he asked.

“Little,” came sleepily back. Moving closer, James wrapped his arms around Jeremy's waist, then nestled his face into the nape of his neck and kissed it softly.

“Love you.”

“Mmh, you too.”

 

* * *

 

In the morning they had turned. Some time during the night, Jeremy had slipped out of his jeans and was cuddled against James' body, his crotch and now his warm erection was gently pressing against James. His arm was wrapped protectively around James' chest, and he was breathing into James' hair.

He noticed that Jeremy must have been at least partly awake because of the way he held him. James shifted a little, pressing his bottom closer to Jeremy's crotch. The other man's breath hitched and James smiled to himself.

“Mmmh, what time is it?” Jeremy muttered sleepily. He let James roll onto his back, which meant that he could grab his phone and squint at it. “Uff, we're meeting at 8?”

Jeremy nodded sleepily and rested his hand on James' back. “Yes.”

“Only 6:30.”

Jeremy rubbed his eyes and looked up at James. “Then why are we awake?”

“Dunno,” James replied and propped himself up next to him, gently kissing his shoulder then his lips. He had meant for it to be short, but as Jeremy's hand wandered from James' hair onto his shoulder, neither of them was willing to break the contact.

For a while they kept kissing softly, emitting small, muffled moans. Jeremy's other hand settled on his hip while James held onto Jeremy's shoulders. He had always liked them, as well as his arms, and of course his legs.

“Mmh, how's the back?” James asked in between.

“As good as new,” Jeremy replied. James leaned back a little, and for a moment Jeremy looked lost. As soon as a soft smirked formed on James' face, Jeremy knew what he was on about and nodded. “Do your worst.”

James rolled his eyes and kissed Jeremy again. Then his hands trailed along his partner's chest and soon found himself between his legs. Jeremy lazily wrapped his arms around James' body, while James located the bottle from last night and then put his tongue to good use as he prepared Jeremy.

There was a sharp intake of air as Jeremy felt James inside him. James kissed him sweetly while moving lazily. He watched Jeremy unwind and lose control at the same time. He loved that about him. He was just so fuckable.

 


	71. Crime

“A couple of rules you need to know, really, about Uganda, if you're coming here,” Jeremy began to talk to the mini cam. “Number one, if you're a male homosexual and you indulge in your ... homosexuality, it's life imprisonment.”

He made a face and nodded. It was the first thing he remembered, after all, Andy had drilled it into their heads. “That's very important to know.”

Then he continued with a law that was just as absurd. “Also, it is compulsory here for motorcyclists to wear crash helmets, unless you are a woman on her way back from the hairdressers. Then you are allowed to wear a carrier bag on your head instead. I promise that's true!”

 

* * *

 

By the end of the day, they had finally arrived at the site of their crap hotel. They had planned to stay there and modify the cars the next day. That had been loosely scripted. However, what hadn't been scripted was just how crap the hotel actually was. And how literal … as Jeremy had to figure out.

“Hammond!” he shouted across the court.

The camera was cut and Andy tried to calm them. It would only be one night. Jeremy sighed, leaning against the door frame. He looked at James longingly, wishing that he could hold him, be near him. It would make it easier to bear the situation. When James caught his gaze, he let out a weak but sympathetic smile.

“Oh no!” Andy cut in between, seeing the way they were looking at each other. “No. No, no. Not you two. Stop it.”

“We weren't doing anything,” Jeremy defended himself. “I was just looking.”

“But it was a certain look. A bad look.” Andy cut in between.

“Looking doesn't equal sex.” James sighed.

“You two aren't in a position to argue. I'm not getting you into jail.” Andy stepped next to Jeremy and grabbed him by the arm. “You, in there. That's your room now.”

He shoved the protesting Jeremy through the door, then he pointed at the opposite room. “James, that is yours.” James didn't even manage to sound a small protest. “No! There is no discussion!”

It had been hard enough to keep them apart in India. There it hadn't been illegal but better if they weren't seen indulging in anything. He had barely managed. Here, it was even worse. And he knew that Jeremy was allergic to rules. He would rebel against them, especially if Andy was the one imposing them. That was okay with Andy, as long as he stuck to them, and the rebellion was only vocal. He was just worried. He really didn't want both of them to end up in prison.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Andy walked through the small square. He had gotten coffee for most of the crew and had taken the newspaper with him. On the way back, he skimmed the first few pages.

“Hey, Andy,” Richard began, standing at James' open door. “Have you seen May?”

Frowning, Andy shook his head. He placed the coffee on the table and pointed at it to offer some to Richard. He hoped that James was just on the bog. Otherwise he might have to kill him.

However, his hopes were destroyed when he opened Clarkson's door. “I have found him,” he stated with clenched teeth.

“Huh?” Richard walked to him and looked inside the room. Clarkson's back was turned to them, along with May's. They were spooning happily, James' head comfortably resting on Jeremy's arm, while Jeremy's face rested against James' shoulder. “Oh.”

“Can you get me a pot and a wooden spoon?” Andy requested. His hands were balled into fist.

 _How could they be this stupid?_ He had drilled it into both of their heads. This time he wouldn't let them off easily.

“Here.” Richard handed the supplies over, a small frown on his face.

“Thank you, Richard. Good to know that at least one of you listens to me.” Andy cleared his throat. He began to hit the pot with the spoon, causing a horrible noise, but he didn't stop. “Wake up, you two!” he shouted, watching as Clarkson and May shot out of bed.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Clarkson shouted. He reached with his hand for James, apparently wanting to calm him, but just managing to grab his arm.

Andy stopped the abuse. “What the fuck are you two doing?”

May shot him a deadly look and Wilman wanted to slap it off his face. They really weren't in a position to argue. Clarkson's hand slipped off and he tucked his legs under his body, sitting at the opposite end of the bed. Neither of them answered.

“Seriously. What the fuck are you two doing?” Andy repeated again. “This is illegal here! Highly illegal! Not just _oh they just don't really like to see it_ illegal. Do you two really want to spend the rest of your lives here? In fucking prison?! Bet they won't give you the same cell.”

“Relax.” Clarkson shot in between. Andy was just about to hit him. “We didn't even have sex.”

“Prove it!” There was a silence. Jeremy shrugged his shoulders weakly. He couldn't. “You, of all people, should be aware of how hard it is to prove that you _haven't_ had sex with someone!”

Andy turned to Richard and handed over the pot and spoon. “Get me that newspaper,” he requested. The sharp tone was still present, even though he hadn't meant to address Richard like that.

“And from you James!” he began again. “I had my money more on Clarkson creeping over to you. You're the one that does the deed. Not that it would make a difference in court. How could you be so stupid?”

Richard winced at those words. He knew that somehow they originated in care. Neither of them wanted to see Clarkson or May in prison for something that wasn't wrong.

“Andy! Stop it!” Clarkson cut in between. When Richard entered again, he saw that Jeremy had put his hand on James' shoulder, as if to protect him. Jeremy most likely didn't even know what he was doing. James was already biting his lip, avoiding the eye-contact. “All right. We're sorry.”

There was a stretch of silence. Richard looked back and forth between Clarkson and May. Jeremy shuffled a little closer and gave James' shoulder a slight squeeze.

Then Hammond realized why James had come over: he had needed the comfort. It was a horrible place to stay, it was uncomfortable, hot, the smell was appalling and James' back was also shit thanks to his Volvo … “It won't happen again,” James added, his voice no different than usual.

“Damn right it won't!” Andy was still raging. He grabbed the newspaper from Richard's hand and opened a page. Then he threw it on the bed, between the two men. “Read it,” he ordered them.

For a moment they looked a little lost, in need for their glasses. Jeremy reached over to his bag to fish them out.

However, Andy didn't have the time for Jeremy to do so and told them the story instead. “It's about a boy who was caught having sex with another boy. His father beat him to a pile of shit. Broken rips, nose, cheek bone, arm. The boy is in prison. For life. The father? Nothing, he was fully in his right.”

Jeremy stopped and took a deep breath, May was doing the same. They were looking at each other, a silent conversation passing. “Understood,” May just replied.

“Good.” Andy seemed to relax a little. “Now get dressed. We have stuff to film.”

 


	72. Turf

It hadn't been planned. Given the rain and the muddy turf it was bound to happen that one or two people would crash into each other. Sometimes they intended to 'tackle' the other person, but most of the time, the crashes were accidents.

But none of them had frightened Jeremy as much as what was happening right now: his Cee'd didn't want to stop and he could see the number of the car he was about to crash into: James.

“I'm sorry. I'm really sorry,” he apologized afterwards, hoping that James would believe him.

 

* * *

 

After the game was done, the teams went into different locker rooms to change clothes. Despite just sitting in their cars, all of them had broken a sweat and were in need of a change of clothes. Or at least the shirts.

 _And people dare to say my job is easy,_ Jeremy thought and shrugged into another shirt. His shoulder ached a little, which made him painfully aware of James wondering if he was all right.

Minutes later he was waiting in the car park, leaning against James' little Panda. Jeremy didn't have the keys, and they had arrived at the location together. However, while the rest of the crew made their way out of the stadium, James was nowhere in sight. As the car park cleared Jeremy stopped the last person.

“Hey, have you seen the pedantic one?” Jeremy asked, trying to sound casual, even though his reason for asking was obvious.

Having been directed to the changing room, Jeremy tried not to stress out on the way, but soon broke out into a jog. He couldn't help worrying as he wondered what could have kept James for so long.

“James?” he called out of breath. “Are you in there?”

“Clarkson? Didn't think you can run,” came back flatly, but Jeremy noticed that something was wrong. If the slightly painful streak to his voice hadn't alerted him to that, the way James crouched on the bench certainly did.

“Who says I did?” Clarkson replied as he sat down next to James.

“Your breathing.” James let out a laugh and regretted it at once as he winced almost instantly.

Jeremy's hand wandered to the back of his neck and touched it carefully. James' body stiffened in response. “Why are you still here?” Jeremy asked softly.

“Can't get out of my shirt without dying,” James replied and tried to hid behind his hair. Naturally, he was too embarrassed to ask anyone for help.

Jeremy realized that James' pain must have been caused by the many crashed they had had today. The last one – the one which had been Jeremy's fault - had been the final blow to cause the injury to his neck. Even James' shoulders felt stiff.

“Can you lift your arms?” Jeremy asked gently and brushed some hair out of James' face.

“Yes, but it's not enough.” James let out a sigh. He hated feeling weak.

“Come on, old man. I'll help you.”

James had expected merciless teasing, not compassion. Then he remembered Jeremy's own back injury and stopped wondering. Instead, he let out a sigh and nodded.

Jeremy instructed him to sit still and complain if he felt any pain. Those instructions weren't as encouraging as James had hoped. “Are you sure you know what you're doing?”

“May, three children. I undressed and dressed them often enough. I also wiped their shit away. But I won't do that for you.”

James laughed and winced immediately. _When will I learn?_

Before James could think anything else, Jeremy's hands had sneaked under the hem of his shirt and he lifted it. “Tip your head forward,” Jeremy told him and James complied willingly.

This wasn't much different than the shuffling in the bedroom. Gently and sweetly done, determined at the same time. Soon the shirt was off his shoulders and Jeremy slipped it down James' arms. “There; now where is your other shirt?” he asked, trying to find the bag of clothes they had brought with them.

“Do you have a button up in there?” he asked as soon as he had found it. Also the answer was: he hadn't. It was James' red Indian Motorcyle shirt.

“Right,” Jeremy muttered to himself and began to unbutton his own shirt.

“Clarkson, I'm flattered but not really in the mood,” James interrupted with a weak smile.

“Relax,” he replied and slipped out of his button-up, revealing the T-shirt he wore underneath. “Undressing is easier, a button-up is the easiest shirt in the world to put on.”

“But you already wore that,” James protested. Still, he was touched that Jeremy was so thoughtful about little things.

“James, you had my dick in your mouth. You can wear my shirt until we reach Hammersmith.”

Again James laughed, and regretted it soon enough. “Fair point,” he brought out between clenched teeth.

When he opened his eyes again, he found Jeremy kneeling in front of him, doing up the buttons.

James smiled sweetly while Jeremy's eyes were focusing on the buttons. Then James' slightly befuddled brain allowed some words to slip out. “Remind me to tell you more often that I love you.”

Jeremy's eyes snapped up, and James saw a wonderful shy smile on the older man's face before Jeremy rolled his eye to reply.

“Fine,” Jeremy muttered and patted James' thigh gently. “You're all done. Come on.” Before Jeremy got up, he kissed James softly on the lips. “Lean against me while walking.”

Jeremy wrapped his arm around James' waist to give him some support while they would make their way back to the little Panda. Given James' condition, Jeremy would have to be the one driving back.

James only accepted Jeremy as a driver when he promised not to rev the car too often. Naturally though, he didn't obey that rule.

 


	73. Blubble

Thanks to Jeremy’s driving, they had reached James’ house quickly. James liked his Panda a lot, and Jeremy liked it, too. The only problem he had with it was that James had one and now – naturally - it was ruined. The most uncool car there could be. However, that didn’t stop him from revving the engine all the time.

After he had parked the little Panda on the drive, he jumped out of the car, wanting to help James. However, James had quite enough of being treated like a broken man and got out on his own.

“It’s all right. Stop nannying me, you arse,” James protested.

“Fine,” Jeremy replied, moving to the door and unlocking it, then not even waiting for James to follow him. Maybe his tone had been a bit too sharp, James realized as he slowly made his way towards the door. He wasn’t as quick as he’d normally be. “God damn it,” he muttered as he stepped into his own house. Clarkson was already busy in the kitchen and James closed the door and sat down on the sofa _. A wonderfully soft sofa_ , he thought quickly.

“Here.” Jeremy handed him a beer.

James thanked him quietly and took a sip. _Cold beer, cold wonderful beer_. He mused happily. He leaned back on the sofa, closing his eyes, just wanting to relax and forget about the pain in his neck and in his weary bones.

They stayed quiet for a while; James sipping his beer, hoping that his body would stop hurting any time soon. Jeremy had sat down next to him and when he noticed James' wincing, he carefully put an arm around him. “Rest against me,” he offered, gently pulling him closer and letting him rest against his chest. _It was comfortable,_ James realized, just like it always was. Jeremy was wonderfully warm, and James let out a long sigh.

“Thank you. For all of it,” he muttered and soon closed his eyes.

“Always,” Jeremy muttered, before he noticed that James was dozing off.

It was the gentle sound of the television that brought James back to reality. The volume was so low that James could barely understand what was spoken. He noticed that he was still lying slumped against Jeremy; the bottle of beer had been placed on the couch table.

“Hmm,” James muttered and in response he felt a soft kiss on the top of his head.

“How are you feeling?” Jeremy asked quietly. James shifted slightly, wondering if he could reach his beer without hurting himself further.

“A bit better,” he muttered, instead of the beer he just cuddled further into Jeremy.

“I have an idea,” Jeremy began while handing over his beer bottle. James took it gratefully. “You’re pretty knackered, how about we take a bath and then we’ll just tuck you into bed?”

James shrugged his shoulders, and instantly regretted the movement. “If you give me a back rub,” James tried to negotiate.

Jeremy rolled his eyes. “What? Why? You’re the one who was rude to me.”

“You’re the one who crashed into me!”

“I tried to help!”

James couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips. “Then help by giving me a back rub.”

Jeremy let out a sigh.

James smiled brightly and tried to turn. He groaned, but with the help of Jeremy's hands on his shoulders he managed and kissed him. “You can also undress me.”

“No fun if it leads nowhere,” Jeremy protested quietly and kissed him back.

Together they got up, and this time James leaned against him. They made their way up the stairs and while James waited in the bedroom, Jeremy drew the bath. When this was done he came back to James and settled on the floor in front of him. “Need help?” he asked.

“Please.” James smiled softly. He was done quickly, and then James sat, bare-chested, watching Jeremy take off his socks as well and skilfully began to unbutton his shirt.

“Get up,” he requested gently. Only his trousers were left, and he managed to get rid of them with Jeremy's help, letting out a little groan. Then his jeans and pants pooled around his ankles and Jeremy stood in front of him, smiling.

“Wipe that off your stupid face.” Suddenly James felt himself flush. It had been a while since he had just stood completely naked in front of Jeremy, without the intention to do anything else. James swallowed, he was too aware of his body, of the fact that he had with age put on some weight.

“What? You know that I like it,” Jeremy protested and kissed him. It was a gentle and long kiss, one that made feel James comfortable. “I do.”

A weak smile formed on his lips, and soon he felt the other man’s hand around his waist to guide him to the bathroom. With Jeremy's help he got into the tub where he could feel the warm water soothe his body. James relaxed quickly, closing his eyes.

It didn’t take long until Jeremy joined him; he sat down behind him and James gladly used the offered chance to lean back against his chest. Jeremy snaked an arm around his body, keeping him above the water no matter how far James’ mind was wandering.

They stayed like that for some time, and the ache in James' body dulled, feeling distant. Instead he enjoyed the warm water, the small bubbles and Jeremy’s hand holding him in place. Jeremy's other hand was slowly undoing the knots in his back. From time to time, James felt a soft kiss being planted on his shoulder or his neck.

“I love you,” James muttered.

“And I you,” Jeremy replied without hesitation.

 


	74. Antique

“Do you fancy some lunch?” James repeated the question once the cameras had been put away and a quite reluctant Richard had gone to watch the football match.

“Hmm?” Jeremy turned. “With you?”

“I fear so.”

“Eeeh.” But he nodded. “I might.”

“Do you need a shower first?” James asked as they walked out of the bar.

“I think I do,” Jeremy muttered. As the crowd thinned, nobody was looking at them and Jeremy sneaked his hand into James'. A small smile formed on his lips when James gave his hand a squeeze.

“I'll make it quick, I promise,” Jeremy assured him as he went to the lift. “You figure out where we could eat.”

“Will do, Ma'am.”

“Arse.”

 

* * *

 

Half an hour later, they were seated in a restaurant. It wasn't particularity fancy but the brick walls made it seem rather comfortable, homely even. Jeremy liked it, and he and James had found a quiet corner to sit.

“You liked the Mustang?” James asked after they had ordered drinks and something to eat.

“Love it.” Jeremy smiled. “It just appeals to the inner child.”

James could only huff. “You have a lot of that.”

In response Jeremy kicked him under the table. It didn't take very long until James kicked him back and a fight broke out under table. Soon laughter was added to the kicking fight.

“All right! All right!” Jeremy shouted as his shins were attacked relentlessly. “A truce, May. A truce.”

“Okay.” A moment later Jeremy felt another kick.

He shot him a dark look. “Am not the only one with an inner child.”

Just as James was about to reply, the waiter brought them two glasses of wine. “Grazie.”

Jeremy smiled softly and raised his glass. “To us.”

“Yes, to us,” James agreed quietly and they clinked glasses. Each took a sip. “Hmm, that's good.” James muttered.

“You must know.” Jeremy winked at him. “Don't you dare kick me again!”

James rolled his eyes “You just wish that you could be paid for drinking on television.”

Jeremy laughed and shook his head. “Sometimes.” He took another sip. “Tonight! On Top Beer! I drink a Rosé in the garden, Richard thinks Gin 'n' Tonic tastes good, and James drink a beer … with twigs in it.”

They were laughing as their meals arrived. They were laughing throughout most of the night as they went through the concept of Top Beer. At some point they considered a special named Top Bear, just because these spelling mistakes tend to happen as well.

As James sat back laughing so hard that he choked on his wine, Jeremy just shook his head. He felt a warm comfortable feeling in his stomach. Of course things between them had settled. But it was still an adventure, and Jeremy was glad for that. His feelings for James hadn't lessened one bit. Every day he woke up next to his warm body, he just felt himself falling deeper and helplessly care more, wanting to protect him from all the bad things, and to be protected by him in turn, wanting to be held in his arms and return his embrace. Loving him even more. James was a constant, always there. Jeremy was glad for that.

“I do love you,” he muttered as James was able to breathe again.

James looked at him, and smiled as he nodded. “You know, I do too.”

“Love yourself?”

“That too.”

An airy laugh escaped Jeremy and the warm feeling spread across the rest of his body. He was familiar with that.

 

* * *

 

With ice cones in their hands, they walked through the streets. James had asked the hotel servant where they could get the best ice cream. She had advised a place at the other end of the town, so James just googled the nearest place that was still open and took Jeremy along, pretending that it was the best ice cream in town.

They walked hand in hand through the dimly lit streets, the moon was already in the sky while the sun was still setting. Sometimes they stopped for some window shopping.

“That looks nice,” Jeremy explained with a full mouth. He tugged at James' hand and dragged him to the window of an antiques shop.

“The desk?” James asked, pointing at it.

“No, there.”

“That's just a pillow.” James was confused.

Jeremy shook his head. “But look at it! It looks like it was sewn together years ago. It'd fit perfectly in my house. And the pattern is what gets me.” He had a bit of a pet peeve when it came to house design. He knew that James didn't understand this, with his beige house with more hints of beige.

“A pillow, Jeremy,” James muttered and gave his hand a squeeze. “It's nice and all but … it's a pillow. You really want to spend a fair amount on money on a pillow?”

“As if we'd had to worry about money,” Jeremy huffed and licked on his ice cream. “Would you rather we'd find something in corduroy?”

James hummed happily. “We're antique-shopping then?”

“Admit it, you're already nursing a semi just thinking about corduroy.”

James laughed and nodded. “As if you wouldn't like that.”

“Fair enough.” Jeremy smiled brightly. He let go of James' hand and wrapped his arm around his shoulders instead. “Now, look at the pattern of that pillow again.”

James frowned, then he took a closer look and his frown deepened. Then he began to burst out laughing. “It looks like little … cocks.”

Then he felt Jeremy's lips on top of his head. “You still know me.”

“You want a cock pillow?” James was still laughing and took the liberty to lean against Jeremy.

“No. I want this cock pillow,” he explained. “I mean it's years old and someone thought it would be a good idea to put a cock like pattern on it. That's just brilliant.”

“So that some old queer bloke could enjoy it years later.”

“Exactly!”

James shook his head, but he couldn't stop laughing. “Do you --- do you still want to head for a drink in the bar?”

“Sure,” Jeremy agreed as he finished his ice cream.

 

* * *

 

“There he is!” Jeremy shouted from the bar while leaning drunkenly against James.

“Hello, you two. Anything left for me?” Richard asked, pointing at the wine bottle.

“No, sorry.” James shrugged his shoulders. They could go through a bottle of wine quickly.

“How was the game?” Jeremy asked.

“Okay.” Richard shrugged his shoulders. He sat down next to them and ordered a Gin 'n' Tonic. “What were you two up to?”

“We've had a date!” Jeremy pronounced proudly.

“Shh.” James whizzed and nudged Jeremy. The barman didn't seem to bother about them as he put the glass down in front of Richard.

“How was it?” _Did he even care?_ But what harm could it possibly do …

“Lovely.” Jeremy smiled happily. “We had some lunch, then we went through some little shops. And I found a really cool pillow which I need to buy tomorrow. James, remind me.”

“Buy that pillow tomorrow,” James muttered.

Jeremy laughed and shook his head. “I meant tomorrow.”

“I said tomorrow!”

Richard frowned. _How much did they already have?_ He wondered. Suddenly he was reluctant to drink his liquor. “He meant that you should remind him tomorrow,” Richard explained.

“Oooh.” James nodded, understanding now. “Sorry, honey bunch.”

“It's okay, poopy bear.”

Richard frowned, they didn't have pet names for each other. Most off all not these! “You guys are brain fucking me.”

At least he hoped so, they just couldn't be that drunk. That was impossible. He knew how they acted when they were drunk and it wasn't like that. Maybe they had also … used something else, he considered for a moment.

“Fucking!” James shouted.

“Good idea!” Jeremy agreed. “We should fuck.”

“Yes,” James agreed again.

“Come on.” Jeremy stood up and reached for James' hand. He took it and Jeremy dragged the man out of the hotel bar. “Do you want to take it up the arse?”

“Sure.”

Richard just sat on the bar stool, completely helpless. Utterly confused. That … “They're joking,” he told the barkeeper, shaking his head. What even …? “I think,” he muttered. Their last statement would have conjured up terrible images for him years ago, and it wasn't getting any better.

 

* * *

 

An hour before, Jeremy and James had walked into the hotel lobby. As if struck by an idea James had repeatedly slapped Jeremy's arm. “Ouch, ouch, stop. What is it?”

James had stopped the assault and asked “Do you want to shit on Hammond?”

“Literally or figuratively?”

“Figuratively.”

“Would have said yes to both.”

 


	75. Poor

“You can’t be serious,” Jeremy exclaimed after seeing their ‘hotel’ for the first night. This really had to be a mistake. At first he thought that it was just for the cameras, them finding the hut at the side of the road and later retiring to a nice luxury hotel. However, after the cameras were cut, nobody was moving near their camera vans. They were staying here! That was horrible.

“Andy, I can’t do that!” he kept complaining. His knee was already ruined, his back hurt and he couldn’t stay a night on a hard floor without a shower, a decent meal, or any other basic luxury he was used to. Like a bog.

Yes, he was aware that the BBC sometimes let them stay in a skip. Africa had been a good example. But this was even below their usual low standards.

“I’m not doing it!” he protested, but no one was willing to listen. Even James only climbed out of his truck, looking sadly at Jeremy and shrugging his shoulders.

“James help me!” he begged him. He was almost threatening to never sleep with him again, but then remembered that they were in a public place. Homosexuality wasn't really welcomed. Jeremy sighed; it was one more reason to keep their relationship out of the public. So many beautiful countries they wouldn’t be able to visit.

“Sorry, love,” James sounded resigned as he walked past.

Had they stayed in a hotel, he could have easily sneaked into James' room or vice versa. Like the had done in Africa and many times before. The first hotel had been a skip as well – not as bad as this one though – but it had been more bearable with James’ snoring at his side. No matter how much Andy tried, he just wasn't able to keep them apart. He had only managed to do so when they had to sleep in their cars; there was no way that they could fit two tall grown fat British men into the back of a Volvo estate. This gave Jeremy an idea.

“Andy! Stay put old man!” he shouted after him. Any other day he might have run, but today his knee wouldn't allow it.

After half an hour Andy was convinced. The lorries could be modified just like the cars had been in the recent special. Tomorrow they would film the sequence and might only lose a day while doing so. This didn’t matter, they always made sure they had a few extra days. Since it was Jeremy’s brilliant idea, he insisted to be the one to break it to his co-presenters.

They were seated outside, sharing some beer and beans from several tins. “Chaps, I’ve got good news,” Jeremy began and sat down, wincing while he did so. His knee wasn’t doing him any favours. He had to do something about it tomorrow. James gently rested a hand on his thigh and gave it a squeeze. It didn’t matter here; the crew who were with them were aware of the nature of their relationship. They hadn't told them, but they never hid it either.

“What’s the news?” James asked as he handed Jeremy a bottle of beer.

“Thanks. Remember Africa and our brilliant estate cars,” he began and took a sip from the bottle. It was cold, wonderfully cold. “Well, two were brilliant. Richard, yours was shit.”

Jeremy grinned smugly and then went on. “Okay, listen. Andy told me that because we are poor bastards, the next hotels are going to be like this, or … camping.” At that, James let out an audible sound of protest. “So we could just convert the back of our lorries,” he explained and took another sip, letting the statement sink in.

“That’s not a bad idea,” Richard agreed. James didn’t seem to convinced.

“Yeah, it’s not bad … but have you seen my lorry, I haven’t got any room for that,” James protested quietly.

“And who’s fault is that?” Jeremy teased him, and nudged him. “I’m not staying in one of those skips and ruin my fucking knee, or back, and I am not willing to get any disease.”

James rolled his eyes but knew that Jeremy was right. His own back wasn’t in such a good shape either, and he reckoned that he would also feel the strain after a few day. The discussion went on for a while, how their lorries would be converted, when they’d do it, who’d get the material. Deep into the night, most of the crew had retired and only a few younger cameramen, James and Jeremy were left behind.

“Clarkson, I really haven’t got the room for anything. I can only hang a tent on the front of my crane,” James stated. Through the night they had begun to lean against each other.

“That’s a brilliant idea, but you’ll hate sleeping in that.”

“Mmh.”

“Don’t worry, this time it’s a lorry and I can fit a bed big enough for two fat blokes in the back,” Jeremy offered and kissed the top of James’ head.

“Wait, you are being nice …”

Jeremy laughed and rolled his eyes. “You can pay me with blow jobs.”

“There’s the catch.”

Jeremy was interrupted by Andy before he could reply anything. “I didn’t just hear that!”

“Relax, you knew that we were sleeping together,” James stated flatly. “We're not waiting until marriage.”

“They don't want to see this here!”

“Yes, we know. But we’re always out in the middle of nowhere. We’ll be careful,” Jeremy explained. They were unlikely to encounter any police. And they were always on the move, never staying anywhere long enough to cause a fuss.

“As long as I don’t notice it, you can do it,” Andy offered, and Jeremy and James agreed. They had to, after all they were grown men who were well aware of the danger. By morning, James had to be sneaked out off Jeremy’s lorry. Over the years Andy had learnt that it was nearly impossible to keep the two of them apart.

This was done until they reached the river. They hadn’t been caught by the officials. However, one night James had lost himself in Jeremy, somehow brought out by the need for comfort after Richard’s accident. So the next morning he had stayed in.

This had caused a massive lecture from Andy, and since Jeremy maintained the idea that it was James’ fault (“I didn’t force you to jerk me off!”), it was punished by having them shoot James ‘waking up’ in his tent at a high altitude.

Another time the whole crew had to sleep in a temple. Mattresses were laid out, everyone shared the room, and James snored loudly next to Jeremy. Jeremy had just had enough. He was used to normal snoring, but this was too much.

He slapped James on the arm, hard enough to wake him up. Without saying anything, Jeremy had pulled May to his chest, giving him a comfortable place to rest, and the snoring had an end. The next morning, Wilman had pushed Jeremy's feet and the only thing Clarkson was able to say was “Please, don't shout at us again.” Wilman didn't. Instead he told him that they had ten minutes to get up before the rest.

A few nights later when both of them were a bit drunk, Jeremy had kissed along James’ body, pressing him into the mattress, and James’ legs wrapped around his waist. The rest of the crew were enjoying the party, no one had noticed and nobody had to be thrown out of a truck or be shouted at.

 


	76. Splinter

“Ouch!” Jeremy shouted across their construction site. “Damn.”

James and Richard turned around, which almost caused Richard to fall into the river again. Well, Jeremy was still standing, James noted. “I'll check up on the big idiot.”

He walked off their unfinished bridge and towards Jeremy. The mood was still a bit foul between the two. After Jeremy had almost injured James when he had brought a bigger crane than James' to the construction site. Then Jeremy had tipped it over, apparently without considering that James had been standing near it. He had almost taken James' head off, and James had been pissed, he had shouted at Clarkson and hadn't been willing to listen to his explanation.

But James knew that Jeremy had profoundly apologised for almost beheading James. And James had seen that he had never meant to cause him any harm. If he had, then things would have looked grim. And James would have woken up in hospital with Clarkson at his side who would have felt more guilty than he already did. That was what reason told James, another part – the one that held the upper hand – couldn't believe that Jeremy had been so fucking stupid and would endanger his life so easily …

James noticed that Jeremy was cradling his left hand to his body.

“You okay?” he asked him when he stood next to him.

“Yeah,” Jeremy replied shorty, but flinched as he touched the tip of his finger.

“What happened?” James wasn't quite able to see what was wrong with his hand. Nothing was red, or swollen, and all the fingers were still attached.

“Well, I was doing some hammering,” Jeremy began and gently blew onto his fingers. “And then I got a fucking bamboo splinter.”

James let out a snort and shook his head. In return Jeremy looked at him, apparently saddened by the lack of compassion.

“This is life threatening,” he replied, voice hurt.

“Clarkson, you girl. It's a bloody splinter,” James huffed and patted the other man's shoulder.

“I could have died,” Jeremy protested, cradling his hand

“Of course you could have.” James reached out to take Jeremy's hand in his. “Is it still in?”

Jeremy nodded, using his other hand to point at the injured finger. James looked at it closely, and to be fair, without glasses he couldn't see a difference.

“Right, we'll just pull it out and then Mrs. Clarkson can keep on working.”

“Don't say that,” Jeremy muttered quietly.

James frowned for a moment, and then realized his error. “Right, we'll just pull it out and then Mrs. James May can keep on working. Better?”

“Much better.” Jeremy smiled.

Jeremy sat down on the small construction that he had been building. He waited for James' return, who was off to fetch tweezers, some alcohol, a plaster and his glasses. It didn't take very long to collect those things, and if anything, the alcohol was the easiest to find.

“All right, I've taken the Black Cock because I know you like cock,” James explained as he sat next to a smirking Jeremy.

“You know me too well.”

“Hmm, hand.”

Jeremy obeyed him, watching as the other man worked gently to pull out the splinter. Then he soaked his whole hand in Black Cock, not bothering to save it. It took him a while to realize that those were his glasses that James was wearing.

It didn't matter a lot, they had chosen to get some in different colours this time. Jeremy's were blue, and James' black. However, their eye-sight was similarly bad, and they tended to mix up little things like that more often than not. Still it brought a small smile to his lips.

“Those are mine,” Jeremy muttered as James carefully put the plaster around his finger.

“What?” James looked up.

“Glasses.”

James smiled weakly and nodded. “Do you mind?”

Jeremy bit his lips and shook his head. He carefully glanced around, nobody was watching them. Especially no camera. In Thailand they were legal again, but there didn't need to be any more footage of them together during a special. Jeremy plucked the glasses off James' nose and kissed him gently. They stayed like that for a while, just enjoying the contact of their lips.

“No, I don't mind a bit,” Jeremy muttered against James' lips. He could feel James smile.

“May?”

“Hmm.”

“About that … crane ---”

James pulled back before the other man could finish the sentence. He was still defensive about Jeremy's carelessness. James knew that it would fade in time, but Jeremy didn't need to approach the topic either. It wouldn't get them anywhere … “What about it?”

“I know you're mad and angry.”

“No, Clarkson. I'm not ---”

“Just listen,” Jeremy pleaded. James took a deep breath and nodded. “Thanks. I – you know that we thought it'd be funny if the crane tipped over.”

James just nodded, he knew that that had been the plan.

“I didn't know that you were still standing there.” Jeremy's voice had gone quiet. James waited for him to say something else. “I should have checked. I didn't mean to take your head off.”

“Well, obviously it's still on,” James muttered. He had known that Clarkson had been beating himself up ever since the incidence.

“And I am ever so glad about that. I don't know what I would have done if I had seriously hurt you and then ...”

James cut him off by gently resting a hand on his knee. Despite all things James didn't want Jeremy to beat himself up while dreaming up worst-case-scenarios, even after the event had already occurred. “I know, but that didn't happen.”

“I am still sorry.”

“I know.” James gave him a soft squeeze. “Stop worrying about it.”

Jeremy smiled shyly at him and covered his hand with his own. “Will you stay in my luxury hotel tonight?”

James frowned; he suddenly sounded shy, almost unsure about the question. That was unusual. “You know how to get a girl, Clarkson. Always.”

 


	77. Quill

“Did you know?” James heard Jeremy's voice booming through the flat.

“What?!” he shouted back while continuing to shave, making careful strokes along the chin so as to not chip his skin.

“Did you know that there is fiction about us?”

James hissed as he almost cut his skin. His hand had slipped and he had applied pressure at the wrong time. Luckily, it didn't seem to bleed.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Seriously?”

“Sure. Why do you ask?” James shouted back as he began to wipe off the rest of the shaving foam.

“Have you ever read it?”

At that, James put aside the razor and walked back into the bedroom. Jeremy was sitting on the edge of the bed, iPad in hand. “Eh, no, I haven't. Have you?” James asked as he slipped out his pyjama shirt and threw it onto the bed.

“Yup, just now.”

“Seriously?” James asked. “About us?”

“Yes.”

“Doesn't that feel weird?”

“Everyone can do what they want to. It's quite harmless.” Jeremy shrugged his shoulders. “Why bother to change names and surroundings when everyone would know what it is anyway. It's just fiction.”

James rolled his eyes “I didn't mean that people write it, but you reading it.”

“Nah. Some nice stuff in there.” He scrolled through the tablet. “In this one, for example.” Jeremy showed him the tablet, forgetting that James was unable to read the small font without glasses. “You're still able to get your legs on my shoulders.”

“I still can,” James protested as he slipped into a new shirt.

“Eeeeh, yes, but it is accompanied with such a loud crack that I think I have dislodged your hip and you make the adequate noise,” Jeremy explained calmly, much to James' annoyance. “To hip dislodging. Not to sex.”

“As if you could get your legs on my shoulders,” James defended himself and sat down next to him.

“I'll admit to that,” Jeremy stated casually. “But then again, I never really could. I have an arthritic hip.”

“How is that treating you these days?” James muttered and shuffled a little closer, wanting to take a peek onto the tablet.

“Doing okay.” Jeremy smiled weakly, until he noticed that James was spying on him. “Oi!” He shoved him away and with a thud James ended up laughing on the floor.

“I just ...” he caught himself laughing as he crawled back onto the bed. “I just wanted to know what they think which of our fictional personas takes it up the arse.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes but humoured him with a weak smile. “It's not often that explicit. Not even half is explicit sex, or even sex. But it looks 50:50.” Then he tucked at James' arm, pulling him back onto the bed.

“1:1, then,” James correct which earned him another eye-roll.

“Shut it,” he warned him. “I quite like that they leave out little things like me being bald and you being a bit fat. And me looking like I've been impregnated by you.”

James shook his head. “Our own fault if we have sex without a condom.”

“Fair point.”

James kissed his cheek and then moved out of bed.

“I'm going to make my own account.” Jeremy began to blurt out. “I already said it sounds like lots of fun when that Cumberbatch bloke told me about it. I should give it a try. I could write all the sex we can't have because you're a bit fat, and I am really fat, we're old, your hair is rubbish ...”

James shook his head and bit a smile back.

“Mine is also rubbish.”

“Pube-like.”

“That too,” Jeremy muttered as he clicked a few buttons. “I could write the sexual adventures of plane sex – which we had -, you giving me blow jobs, after all I happen to know what that's like. Beach sex, public sex, car sex, what else is there? Oh! You could be my secretary and I am … no, rubbish! You are the priest who can't pay the rent and now have to pay me in another way. Sexually.”

At first James had almost blushed, now he was just smiling brightly. “Clarkson, get lost.”

“Prison break sex! Lost on an island sex! Lost in Ireland sex! OH!” Jeremy grabbed James' arm, as though he had just been struck by the best idea of his life. “Sex on a motorbike!”

James' whole resolve crumbled and he burst out laughing. “Clarkson, that is physically impossible. For the motorbike alone.”

“Whatever. It's fiction, doesn't need to be realistic.”

“You also can't write a book where everyone can fly,” James tried to argue.

“Why not?” Jeremy asked helplessly. “We have aeroplanes.”

“You're such an idiot.”

“All right, how about this?” Jeremy moved a step forward. “You're a WWII solider, falling in love with the mechanic who puts all the Range Rovers together – that'd be me, don't get ideas – and then shagging his brains out.”

“I have the sneaking suspicion he had no brain to shag out to begin with.” James muttered, which earned him a gentle punch on the arm.

“Man, I'm trying to be sexy.” James laughed quietly, shaking his head. When he looked up again, Jeremy was beaming down at him, such love in his eyes.

“Okay. Why write?” James took a step forward, closing the distance between them.

“Because it's not 1945?”

“Do you still have that army jacket from Germany?” he asked, his voice low.

“Yes, in the house,” Jeremy replied carefully. Slowly he began to understand James' idea.

“Do you think I'd fit me?”

“If it still fits me, it'll fit you.” Jeremy smiled at him. “Would you, by any chance, like to come to Chippin' Norton after work tomorrow?”

“I might.”

 


	78. Pest

“No, no, no!” Jeremy hit the steering wheel. “I beg of you. Not now!”

Then it just went quiet. So very very quiet. The little Up! stopped coughing and rolled to a stop.

“Please,” he begged quietly, looking out and just seeing the camera car disappearing around the next corner. Along with James.

The horribly chilling atmosphere of this place. The radioactivity wasn't the worst. It had lessened so much that they could walk about for a minute or two without fearing long term damage.

But everywhere … just nothing. Empty houses. Empty playground. And now: empty roads. James just gone and the camera car too.

Only the slight creaking noise of the Geiger counter was left. Jeremy took a deep breath. It would be all right, they'd come back, he told himself. Jeremy just had to wait for them to come back. They'd do this, it's what they said. Those were the rules.

Still … no car came back around the corner. Jeremy closed his eyes and took a deep breath. To keep his mind busy, he turned off the on-board camera, filmed the instrumental panel, and then turned the hand-held camera off as well.

He looked to his right, seeing the emptiness … the dead trees. Then he turned back to the road. They had to be on their way back by now.

Jeremy swallowed hard, he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. It was like his worst nightmares.

 _Take a deep breath, in and out,_ he told himself as he banned the thought. He was alone, trapped in a car that wasn't even as long as he was, and he was in what was probably the loneliest place on the Earth.

There was nobody. James was gone. The camera crew was gone. Nobody on the streets. There had been nobody there for years. Why did they even think that this would be a good idea?

He wanted out. He wanted to shout. He wanted to scream. He wanted to be everywhere but here. He wanted to be with somebody. Even if it was the annoying Brummie Hammond. Everything was better than this.

Jeremy took another deep breath and let his head fall onto his steering wheel. Looking at the surroundings only made it worse. He would notice their return soon enough. They couldn't leave him. _Or could they?_ Jeremy wondered for a moment. _No! Not in the real world. That's just your fear Jeremy._ Why the fuck was he even so scared of being alone in the world?

What would be so bad about that? No annoying Labour Party, no annoying Daily Mail, no annoying Daily Mirror. No annoying anything. But also no annoying James May. If he was honest, he quite liked the annoying idiot.

A smile formed on his face. James … idiot … May. The comforting warmth of his body. The comfortable place at the nape of his neck. His delicate hands. The softness of his hair. The soft belly where Jeremy preferred to sleep. The idiot's face. That he wore bad fashion because he could. The sparkle in his eyes. The way he would hold Jeremy.

Yes, Jeremy liked James. A lot. That thought made him laugh out loud in the empty car. That was nothing new to him. Though it was rare that he thought of James that fondly, listing the things he liked as if he were a school girl. Soon he might write Mrs. Jeremy May into his notebook. It's not like he had anything better to do in the empty car, on an empty road, in an empty town where disaster had happened decades ago.

A knock. “DON'T DO THAT!” Jeremy shouted and jumped in his seat. In the process he hit his head on the car's ceiling. Outside, James was laughing, and a few sounds of his laughter were even audible to Jeremy. He opened the door.

“See, came back for you after all.”

Jeremy took a deep breath and stepped out of the car. He cupped James' face. His idiot James May. With the soft eyes, the warm smile and the stupidly long hair. Jeremy smiled and James just let him.

“Thanks for coming back for me,” Jeremy muttered and kissed James softly.

“Always,” James whispered. He was well aware that there was a camera crew waiting in the Range Rover. “I know how much you hate being alone.”

Jeremy's hand wandered to James'. He took it in his and gave it a slight squeeze. “Come on,” he tugged at his hand once. Then he ended the touch and went to the Range Rover. James followed suit.

 


	79. Danger

“We really can't have sex in here,” Jeremy stated as he dumped their bag on the floor. “Not with Sally the Bear sitting in the corner.”

James shook his head. “Understood.”

“It's my daughter’s room. This goes against every instinct I have as a father,” Jeremy kept on arguing.

James humoured him, as they had had this joking conversation before. In the morning, while James was packing for both of them, Jeremy had sat on the bed, watching James do all the work, wondering how Francie would manage having so many people stay in one house. At first they still joked about having sex in the house at least once, although they strictly excluded the children's rooms.

It was not like James' arrival had been planned. It was rather a pressure point on Jeremy's part. The argument was clear, if Francie took Colin along, Jeremy should be allowed to take James along as well. After all, he also had a small hand in Emily's education, helping her with math problems where Jeremy was stuck. That meant that if Colin came along to Emily's graduation party so would James. James didn't want to admit that he had actually overheard the fight this had caused.

“I still don't know how she plans on squeezing so many people into this house,” Jeremy continued, a hundred miles away from London. “I mean, there is her mother. My mum, the whole family as it was. Then you and … that twat.”

That was Jeremy's newest way to refer to Colin. Jeremy didn't hate him because he was Francie's husband now – maybe in a primal way he did – mostly it came from the man himself. He found him terribly unsympathetic. That was the nicest way to put it.

James sat down and fluffed up the pillow. The bed was way smaller than any of the double beds they had. Two grown men should fit in there. Sadly, they were two very tall grown men. James sighed, which finally put Jeremy's rambling to an end.

“What?” he sat down next to James.

“Not sure I should be here,” he explained quietly. “I'm no member of the family.”

Jeremy smiled weakly. “That's not true. And Emily is very fond of you.”

“I know,” James sighed. Carefully he leaned into Jeremy's touch. “But I'm not her father.”

“If you go by that Colin also has no right to be there,” Jeremy explained.

“He's married to Francie,” James stated bluntly.

“We can't marry and we don't want to,” Jeremy simply stated as if it were clear as day. “You have every right to be here. Trust me, I know a thing or two.”

“Jezza, it's not like you think ahead with many things,” James teased him.

Jeremy kissed his cheek and gave his shoulder a squeeze. “No, but you over-think everything. So stop it.”

Then he got to his feet, offering James his hand. James took it gratefully, then used it to pull Jeremy to a stop. The height difference was minor, but even so James had to stand on his toes to capture Jeremy's lower lip. “Thank you,” he muttered. Jeremy smiled widely and shook his head.

 

* * *

 

It hadn't felt like a real happy family anyway, even if they had tried. Jeremy hated Colin and the feeling was mutual. Francie hadn't been too happy that James had come along, even though he had kept out of every family photo and took them instead. In one he may have covered Colin's face with his thumb which had sent Jeremy into a fit of laughter. Mrs Clarkson had stopped being nice to Mrs. Cain when he had very frankly stated that Jeremy was a shame.

At first Jeremy wasn't able to spot the most obvious reason: 93 kilos of floral shirt and stupidly bouncy hair. When he finally realised, he managed to make the situation worse by countering that she should be used to it since her husband had been in the Army: they couldn't honestly believe that all of them had been straight.

Eventually, while riding with the other 'adults' in the car back, Jeremy commented that Mrs. Cain should be proud, after all it was his daughter that – in her own words – 'made Jeremy gay', which caused Francie to snap. Afterwards, the car was quiet, and it was just lucky that none of the children had had to hear any of this. Instead, it was decided that they would tolerate each other and put those differences aside.

This has lead to Mrs Cain's choice that he wouldn't be staying in the same house as Jeremy. She was a proud woman after all and she'd drive home soon after the party. It didn't help James' awkward situation when Jeremy had replied with “boo” and James had simply burst out laughing. After that James stopped thinking that this would be a slightly weird but happy patchwork family and suddenly he started to feel comfortable …

At least the ceremony had gone well … in a way. Emily was bursting with joy and pride. Jeremy was just bursting with pride. Meanwhile James had to remind him every minute or two that he was a man and mustn't cry in public. At some point Jeremy had kicked him for it. This had the side effect that they were laughing and being more childish than most of the people here.

 

* * *

 

“I got you a cup of tea to help you sleep,” James mumbled as he walked back into the bedroom later that day. His eyes focused on the cup to make sure that he wouldn't spill anything. When he looked up he saw Jeremy sitting at the end of the bed, hunched over, shaking his head. James heard a very distinctive strangled noise, followed by a sob.

 _Oh no._ Quickly he put down the cup and sat down next to Jeremy. “No, come here,” he muttered and put his arm around Jeremy's shoulders. He shook his head, trying to will the tears to stop. Jeremy didn't cry, at least not in front of people. The few times he had allowed himself to cry in front of James were the ones where James had walked in on him and was never supposed to see it.

James just pulled him to his chest and rubbed along his back. He didn't know how to act around crying people. That's why he hated it so much. However, he knew what Jeremy did to him when he was upset so he just mirrored his behaviour. “It's all right,” he muttered, kissing the top of his head.

Jeremy wrapped his arms around James and shamelessly cried into his shirt. “It was a good day,” James tried to remind him. “Admittedly a mild spot of homophobia … but still.”

A weak laugh escaped Jeremy, he looked up at James and shook his head. “That's not it,” he croaked.

James smiled down at him, watched the reddened eyes and gently wiped away the trail of tears. Then he handed Jeremy a tissue. “Don't snot on my shirt.”

“Arse,” Jeremy replied and wiped his nose. Then he hugged James again, resting his chin on his shoulder. James let him, he just wrapped his arms around Jeremy's bony hip and drew soothing circles.

“Daddy feelings?” James asked after Jeremy re-adjusted his head. Now his cheek was resting on James' shoulder, and he seemed to stare outwards.

“Sort of,” Jeremy answered. “Emily just talked to me. You know her boyfriend?”

“The boyband one?” James asked and gave Jeremy a slight squeeze. “Tall one? The one I met today, and who was introduced to me as _Emily's boyfriend_?”

“Yes, that one,” Jeremy laughed, he pulled back slightly. This way he was able to look at James. “She just told me that he asked her to move back with him to Ireland. Em wanted to know what I think about it. Funnily enough, I haven't found one reason against it. The university she's been accepted to provides a good distance learning programme, she has the money, they've been together for two years, he's a nice bloke. She'd become an expat but that's not a real reason.”

“Jez,” James sighed. “You knew that she would move eventually.”

“I know,” Jeremy protested. “But I thought it'd happen slowly. University dorm, flat, boyfriend, family. And all in Britain. So that I would just be a car drive away … now she's leaving the country. I desperately wanted to find a reason for her not to go.”

“Could you?”

“No,” Jeremy admitted quietly. “I love her. I mean, one moment Francie tells me that she's pregnant which almost causes me to faint, then she's just as tall as my shoes and now she's most likely having sex with _Boyband._ Then there's Katya who is now almost as tall as you and I still call her _Little One._ It's not like I can spend much time with them. I get them, let's say, every second weekend: That means to get one year of parenting, I'd need about 17 years!”

“Jeremy, have you really calculated that?” James shook his head. Not quite believing that those numbers were correct.

“I have! Years ago!” he protested.

“They all go to boarding school, anyway.”

“A helpful sod you are,” Jeremy deadpanned.

James couldn't really reply. He had thought that some reality might bring reason to Jeremy, hinting that even if he would have his children every week they'd still be away during working days. Of course, it hadn't worked, Jeremy still sniffed quietly into James' shirt.

“Listen, Clarkson,” James began. He needed a different approach. “You are a very good father. You've never missed any weekends you got with your children. You're there for them, you go miles out of your way to make sure they're happy and get a good eduction. You always made sure that they'd be kept out of harms way. You love them a lot. Otherwise, you wouldn't be sitting in front of me with snot running down your nose and looking so miserable I'm considering putting you down.”

Jeremy laughed weakly and shook his head. “Thanks, May.”

“You're just afraid of losing her,” James stated. He knew Clarkson very well. “But there's no danger. There is air travel. Skype. You may have heard of boats and cars before.”

Another quiet laugh escaped Jeremy.

“What's more important is that your children love you as much as you love them, okay? They wouldn't want to lose you either,” James added softly.

Jeremy looked at his lap, taking in the words, comprehending them. Then he reached behind James and took the mug. After his first sip he looked at James, smiling. “Thank you.”

 


	80. Death

Russia was too dangerous, they had decided when planning the Live Tour. Jeremy liked Russia, in a way … he liked the people. While some might be liberal enough, they knew that the state wouldn't be, so they hadn't shared a room.

Hence Jeremy had been alone when the call had come in. The phone had shown the hospital's number. He didn't recall the nurse's exact wording, he didn't recall what he had done right after.

Right now, he was sitting at the edge of the bed, staring out of the window. There was a Russian city on the other side of it, big and alive. But here, on this side, everything felt like it was dead. His heart dropped, every beat was painful. His arms and legs felt numb. He didn't notice that there were tears steadily falling down his face, he didn't cry or wail … they were just there.

He had barely noticed that there had been a knock on the door and he hadn't noticed that it came again more furiously an hour later. He hadn't noticed that James had been trying to call him and he had barely noticed that James had shouted outside the door, trying to get Jeremy to let him inside.

He only became aware of things again when he felt James' rough hand cover his.

“Jeremy?” James asked softly, and Jeremy noticed that he was kneeling in front of him. However, he didn't reply, not knowing what to say. What was there to say?

 

* * *

 

James tried to judge the situation, wondering what had put Jeremy in the state he was in. Carefully, he reached up and cupped his face. With his thumb he was gently wiping the tears away.

“What happened?” James asked quietly, he gave his hand a slight squeeze, just trying to get some reaction out of the man. There was none. James wasn't even sure if Jeremy had understood him. He was looking at James, but he didn't seem to understand anything.

“Come on,” James muttered quietly and got back on his feet. He made sure that he never let go of Jeremy's hand. One time the grip seemed to slip, but then he could feel Jeremy holding onto him. _So he was still in there, somewhere._

Gently, James pushed him into the bed, pulling the belt out of the loops. “Lie down,” he instructed pulling a blanket around his shoulders. “It'll be all right.”

Whatever _it_ was … James sat at the edge of the bed, holding Jeremy's hand in his lap. He watched as Jeremy closed his eyes and after a while his breath seemed to even out. He was asleep. James ran his thumb over the surface of Jeremy's hand. Every time he stirred hushed him back to sleep.

Sometimes Jeremy would lie there, eyes open but not focusing on anything. This always just lasted for a few moments and James had soon realized that he wouldn't talk or listen.

One time had been different, Jeremy's eyes were open but this time they were looking at James. They were focusing on him.

“Jeremy?” James asked again, hoping that he was coming around. There was a reply, ever so briefly, he gave James' hand a squeeze. “How are you feeling?” _Stupid question!_

A shrug of the shoulders was the answer. James let out a breath. _What was he supposed to do?_

“What time is it?” Jeremy asked after a stretch of silence. His voice was low and carried much weight.

A sad smile formed on James' lips. “Shortly after 3 … pm.”

A new tear fell down the side of his face and Jeremy wiped it away as soon as it appeared. “I've missed rehearsal,” he muttered and rolled onto his back.

“It's all right. I talked to Hammond, he understands.”

“No, he doesn't,” Jeremy cut in. While his voice was still heavy there was a vile tone to it. James just sighed and shook his head. Maybe he didn't … if only he knew what had caused this situation.

“No. But we can do without this rehearsal. You know that,” James told him.

Jeremy looked at him, not saying anything. He just shook his head and pulled his hand back.

Then he rolled onto his shoulder, his back facing James.

However, James wouldn't leave. That would be stupid and most likely dangerous. The next few hours were spent like this. One time James got up to bring Jeremy a glass of water. Or rather to place it on the night stand. He then grabbed a cushion and sat down on the suite's couch. He watched over Jeremy, seeing his breath become regular and shallow. Sometimes it would hitch, and he'd absently drink some of the water, only to revert to the previous state when he was done.

James leaned his head in one hand, watching the sun slowly settle. He could make out Jeremy's lines in the reflection of the window.

He shifted slightly and then heard his voice. “James?” He looked away from the burning red sun outside. “Are you still there?”

“Yeah,” James simply replied. He got up and settled on his knees in front of Jeremy. They looked at each other for a while. Jeremy looked like a beaten man.

 _What had gone wrong?_ James had never seen him react like this before. All the time, while watching over Jeremy, he had wondered. However, he was too scared to think that one of his children could have been injured or worse. So he had just stopped thinking about it.

Gently, James reached for Jeremy and stroked his cheek. He could feel the slight stubble. Slowly, Jeremy relaxed against his hand. Jeremy always thought that everything could be cured with a touch. It couldn't, James knew, but it helped.

Jeremy closed his eyes for a moment and then spoke in a low voice. “My mother died.”

 


	81. Cold

“Are you sure you don't want me with you?” James asked on the phone, sitting at the bottom of his stairs.

“Yes, no. Yeah,” Jeremy stuttered, he was also sitting at the bottom of the stairs. Just in a different house, some miles away from London. “No, stay at home. I'll be fine. It would only cause more attention. You know how the tabloids are.”

“Stupid?”

“That too. I just hope that they will leave me alone,” Jeremy sighed before he thought better of it.

James shared his wish, but he didn't say that out loud. Neither Jeremy nor he saw themselves as a celebrity, and they didn't even understand why them being papped going to a concert causes attention … This time it was just worse. Clarkson was already in the papers because of the “slope pun” and the pressure from the BBC wasn't helping either.

“I know,” James replied quietly.

“I can't even grieve decently. If they saw me crack, even just a little bit … they'd turn it so that it would be because of that joke and not ...” Jeremy cut off and bit his lip.

 _Because his mother had died,_ James could fill the rest in by himself. The news had put Jeremy into a bad place. James had never before worried so much over him. Of course he didn't intended to let him know that. Ever.

Jeremy had cried, he had screamed, and all of that in one night, trying to work all of the grief out of his system. What had remained was a dark shadow. It would leave in time, James knew. The days after hadn't been easy either. Jeremy had the incredible talent of putting his mind onto something and ignoring all that surrounded him. He had done this during the live shows.

After retiring to their room – James had refused to leave him for the time being – James could see the mask slip and reality come back. He had to juggle presenting the show and organising a funeral at the same time. James had done his best to help … but he wasn't sure whether it had been enough.

“Listen, Jeremy, if you need anything just call me.” Jeremy replied with a nod, but James couldn't see that and so he just went on. “You know that I can drive fast if it matters.”

Jeremy laughed for a moment. “Thank you, May. I know you can.”

“Good, love you.”

“Yeah.” Jeremy replied, “bye” and hung up.

With a sigh, Jeremy got up and went to the car. He didn't really want to go, but it was the least thing he could do for his mother. He took the car keys and drove off to the funeral.

 

* * *

 

A knock. James decided to ignore it.

A second knock. This time he looked at his phone, wondering what time it was. No missed calls, no text messages. 1:23AM

A third knock. Maybe a drunk man? James wondered. However, at this time even drunks would be too tired to knock.

A forth knock. James let out a grunt and shoved the blanket away from him. He made his way down the stairs, almost falling over his own feet.

No other knock came. James frowned, maybe it was just some drunken bloke. Then he heard someone trying open the door with a key. James let out a sigh; there were just three other people who had a key. His mother, Hammond, and – of course – Jeremy.

James went to the door and opened it instead of waiting until Jeremy had made his way inside. His heart sank as he took a closer look at the man in front of him. It was his man, but he looked like shit. His shoulders sagged, his face carried grief, the lines harder than usual, and a discrete wet trail made its way down his cheek. It looked like he had tried to wipe it away many times before. James reached for him and guided him into the house. He didn't know any better, so he just hugged him.

“It's all right,” James muttered and kissed his cheek. Clarkson's body felt cold. James tried to give him the comfort that Jeremy usually gave him with every tight hug.

Slowly, Jeremy's arms wrapped around James, and he felt Jeremy let out a long breath. “I'm sorry,” he heard him mutter.

“Don't be,” James replied before Jeremy could explain what he was sorry for.

“I didn't know where else to go. I should have called.”

“It's okay,” he tried to reassure, his heart hurting as he heard Jeremy's voice break.

“I'm exhausted,” Jeremy muttered quietly. James pulled back a little, so they were able to look into each other's eyes.

“Good thing you're in my house. There is a bed in here.” A weak smile formed on Jeremy's face, he seemed grateful for that little joke. James cupped Jeremy's face and gently wiped away the small trail of tears. “Go ahead. You know your way around.”

Jeremy nodded in reply and let go of James almost reluctantly. While Jeremy made his way up the stairs and changed into sweatpants and a shirt he left here ages ago, James locked the front door. He let out a breath. Then he went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea for Jeremy to help calm his nerves. He poured water into the cup, added the tea bag and a shot of vodka. That would work best, he knew it would calm Jeremy's nerves.

He took the cup upstairs, where he could see Jeremy cross-legged on his side of the bed. He looked up when he noticed James approach. With a weak smile, James handed the cup over. He expected a struggle, expected Jeremy to complain that it was just tea and that he didn't know what he should do with it. But no struggle came, and maybe it was a sign of how exhausted he had become over the last weeks.

James sat down on the other side of the bed, and slipped under the blanket.

“Have you put vodka in this?” Jeremy asked.

“Yes.”

“Thank you,” Jeremy replied in a dry voice. After he had put the cup aside, a quiet and more honest “Thank you” could be heard.

Jeremy slipped under the sheets as well and without any further questions James took him in his arms. He wrapped them around his shoulders. Jeremy buried his head in James' chest, letting out a breath as some tension left his body.

“I love you,” James muttered quietly and kissed the top of his head.

“James ...” Jeremy tried to begin, his voice already apologetic

“Clarkson, I know. I know you're hurting and that you can't say it.” There was a pause, James tighten his grip around him. “I understand.”

“Thank you,” came quietly back. Then he felt a soft kiss being pressed to his shoulder. Afterwards they closed their eyes, trying to get some sleep.

 


	82. Risk

Jeremy was becoming distant towards him, and James tried to tell himself that it would pass on its own. The circumstances weren't in their favour: the media was hunting Jeremy down, the BBC wasn't willing to show any support – they didn't even bother to check who had leaked the un-aired footage. It had gone so far that Lord Hall had put Jeremy on his final warning.

Without James meaning for it to happen, they spent less time together. Both of them would stay in London, but each in their own living spaces. The initial reason for that had been the media attention. They talked on the phone instead, but their conversations had become shorter and shorter, until one night Jeremy didn't even call him before going to bed. James had contemplated calling him, but assumed that Jeremy was exhausted and didn't want to wake him.

Over the next three weeks, Jeremy had talked to James less and less. They saw each other at work, but very rarely in private. Slowly James began to miss the small touches that would pass between them. He missed waking up next to Jeremy, missed his leg being hooked in his, and Jeremy's head resting on his chest. James began to miss the small non-sense things Jeremy uttered in sleep, and the breakfast that would always wait for him the next morning. James missed Jeremy, and he didn't know how to stop all of this. How to stop them falling apart.

James finally worked up the courage to invite Jeremy over, and the other man had agreed. James had planned to use the evening to get closer to Jeremy, not even doing much more than wrapping his arm around Jeremy's shoulder while watching a film, but even that just wouldn't happen. Jeremy seemed too distant, and James didn't want to risk being rejected. A part of James broke when he noticed it. Later, they retired to bed, Jeremy's back was turned towards James. James only dared to lay a hand on his back. At least that way some physical contact had been established. Jeremy hadn't pulled back, but he hadn't made a move to get any closer either.

So the next morning when James woke up and saw Jeremy sitting on the bed - was bent forward, leaning his weight mostly on his legs – and said: “I'm sick of it.“ James told himself that he should have seen it coming. Still, there had never been anything that had made his heart sink faster than those simple words.

James didn't manage to say anything and looked at Jeremy, whose back was still turned towards him, seemingly unwilling to ever turn to his direction again. For a moment, James wondered where they went wrong. When the tight bond that had held them together for so long had shattered. James wondered whether it could be fixed again. But maybe they needed a different basis than “We'll see how far we make it” for that to be even a remote possibility.

 _The answer to that question was almost six years_. James swallowed hard, he felt unable to speak, knowing that his voice would crack. He only managed, “All right.“

He should be able to come up with something better, so much better, than _all right!_ He loved this man, and as much as it hurt to only admit this now, he loved him more than he had loved anyone before. But he couldn't force Jeremy into anything, and he didn't want to either. Maybe love had run out for them as well. Maybe it was better to end this now. End this before love would turn into bitter hate and they'd take everything down with them.

“I just ...” Jeremy spoke again, his voice quiet. He shook his head and went on talking, “I'm really sick of it. I can't do anything right.”

James didn't reply, feeling that he was close to tears.

“I'm sick of hiding.”

 _What?_ James frowned and sat up as well. Carefully, he put a hand on Jeremy's shoulder. Again, he didn't pull away.

“I really am.” Jeremy let out a sigh. “I don't want to hide any longer.”

James also let out a sigh, but unlike Jeremy's it was out of relief. “So you wanna come out?”

“No,” he answered quickly. “You know that I hate the idea of it.”

That much was true. In Clarkson's Britain being gay, or queer, wouldn't have any effect, neither positive nor negative. In his Britain, a man would fall in love with a man and the yellow-press would print _Person A fell in love with Person B_ instead of _Person A is gay??!_ Actually, in Clarkson's Britain the yellow-press wouldn't exist.

Furthermore, James knew that Jeremy didn't think their private life was important enough to deserve that much attention. This idea was closely related to the fact that both had always been careful to keep their private lives private.

“Then what?”

Jeremy shrugged his shoulders. “I don't know. I'm just sick of it.”

James bit his lip, he moved closer and hugged him from behind. Gently he placed a kiss on his shoulder.

 _He had been brooding,_ James realized. That's why he had talked so little and kept a distance. It tended to happen when he was thinking, if not over-thinking, something.

James let out a laugh, hiding his face in the nape of Jeremy's neck. “What's so funny?” Jeremy's voice sounded defensive.

“Nothing … I just ….” James broke off, he kissed his neck lightly. He was just glad that it wasn't what he had thought. How could he even think that? It was Jeremy, his idiotic old fat cock, Jeremy Clarkson.

“Clarkson, what do you want?” James asked. Jeremy covered James' hand with his own and gave it a slight squeeze.

“I just … I just don't want to hide,” he replied softly.

“But we're not.”

“Yes, we are.” Jeremy turned around, now they were facing each other. “Listen, I don't want a big coming out or whatever. I just … I just want to be able to hold your hand in public. Or kiss you at a concert.”

James bit his lip. There was a certain truth about this. They weren't hiding in the traditional sense of the word. However, they were still careful in public. They didn't care if they appeared together, but appearing in a way that clearly showed that they were engaged romantically? That was a completely different story, one they usually didn't talk about.

“I want to kiss you and not worry that there could be a paparazzi around the corner. I don't want to worry about that any longer.” He let out a sigh. “I don't want to tell them, but I also don't want to worry whether they'll ever find out.”

“There's a risk,” James muttered quietly.

“I know.” Of course he did. All issues considered, the risk seemed surprisingly small. It only came down to being unable to visit homophobic countries … “I also know should they figure it out that it'll be a hell of a few weeks.”

James just nodded. They had just come off one hell of a week.

“There's something else,” Jeremy began as he brushed a strand of hair out of James' face.

“What?”

“ _The Mirror_.” James stiffened when the words left Jeremy's mouth. “They had to dig through a lot of footage to find the one unused scene out of three, of which I had already forgotten about.”

James swallowed, pretty sure that he knew where this was going. “You think that they already know. That they saw one of the clips where we were together.”

“Yes. But of course me being racist is a far better story than the fact that I fell in love with my co-worker.”

James nodded, maybe it was just a ticking time bomb then. Even so, he was quite sure that hell would freeze over before _The Mirror_ managed to write a positive story about them. Their guilt was just selling much better, fans would read it and haters would, too. The rest wouldn't care …

James bent forward and kissed Jeremy softly. “Did this always bother you? The hiding?”

A weak shrug was the reply.

“Why now?”

“Apparently I can't do anything right anyway,” Jeremy replied after some consideration. “And why should we? It's nothing wrong. Apart from my children, this seems to be the only good thing in my life. Our relationship doesn't have any faults. They can't use it against us, or me.”

James wasn't sure about this, but he could see the point Jeremy was trying to get across. “Jeremy Clarkson, if you use me to top up your image,” James teased him.

The other man found a smile on his face and shook his head. “No.”

James sat back on his feet, he holding one of Jeremy's hands in his. His thumb was soothingly running over it. “Can I think about it?”

Jeremy just nodded in reply.

 


	83. Gum

Jeremy knocked at James' door. There was no reply so he simply let himself inside. But there was no sign of James inside the house either. And ever since Fusker had come under a car, there was also no annoying cat who would come to rub against his feet. Jeremy missed the cat a little bit, and he knew that James missed it, which made him sad. Maybe he should just buy a new Fusker for James …

“James?” he called out; maybe he was on the throne.

However, in all the years that he had visited James, this had never happened. But it would make a lovely coincidence, maybe something to write a column about, he considered. He had written more absurd columns before.

While he was considering what he could title his adventures of finding James on the bog, he went through the house and made his way to the garage. Sometimes his partner could be found there and indeed he heard the radio softly playing. The door was ajar.

He knocked and then walked inside. James turned around and smiled when he saw Jeremy. “Is it three already?” he asked.

“Yes,” Jeremy replied smiling. Yes, it was odd that James mended motorcycles. But both of them had odd hobbies, and Jeremy couldn't deny that James looked very tempting right now. He had a bit of oil smeared across his face, and his jeans and hands were dirty as well. James reached for a ragged old towel and tried to wipe the substance off, but to no avail.

Jeremy shifted his weight. “You wanted to talk?” he asked. One day he might try his hand at being subtle, but it wasn't that day.

James just nodded. He ran a now oil-free hand through his hair. “Yes, it's about … what we were talking about last week.” James tried to explain. Maybe Jeremy would get the idea.

Just a week ago, James had been afraid of losing Jeremy who had grown distant, until Jeremy admitted that he was just fed up with hiding their relationship. James had thought about the proposal: Not coming out, but not caring if the media found out either.

“Oh, that.” Jeremy cleared his throat. “Have you considered … it?”

James scratched the back of his neck and nodded. “Yeah.”

“And?”

“I never thought I'd say this,” he began, a wicked smile on his face. “But I agree with you.”

A wide smile spread across Jeremy's face, one that James loved seeing. “Are you sure?”

“Very,” James replied confidently and stepped closer. “Very sure.”

Then Jeremy reached for him and kissed him, softly at first. Soon Jeremy pulled him closer, his hand wandering to the nape of James' neck and the other holding him softly by the hip. James hummed happily, wrapping his arms around Jeremy. _Good god._

When they broke apart, Jeremy's face was mere inches away from him. Jeremy let out a laugh. “That's yours,” he muttered and chewed on something. James' gum.

“Arse.”

 


	84. House

_He is watching the stars,_ James realized as he looked to the left. Jeremy was sitting slumped in the seat, a bit too drunk to drive, his head rolled back and his eyes fixed on the dark sky. He smiled softly to himself. His hand was reaching across the middle of the car and gently rested on James' arm. They were in Jeremy's AMG but since James had to drive them home, it was only natural that they would spend the night in his house in Hammersmith.

Then a laugh escaped Jeremy and he shook his head.

“What's so funny?” May asked as he took a right turn. He felt a slight squeeze on his arm.

“You know what's so funny. You've been there.”

James shook his head but couldn't help the smile which formed on his face. “Don't you dare” he warned him.

However, he couldn't really expect Jeremy to listen to him, Jeremy had already changed his voice the way he always did when he was imitating someone. “Ohh, and for a healthy relationship me and my wife make sure that we have sex every single day.”

James began to laugh again, barely able to concentrate on the empty road ahead. “Stop it,” he muttered. He noticed that Jeremy shifted in his seat, and soon he felt Jeremy's head hit his shoulders.

“You look so adorable when you laugh like that,” Jeremy muttered quietly, closing his eyes. James smiled weakly, feeling his blood rush to his face.

They had gone to a gala together. Since they had chosen not to hide their relationship any longer it was only natural that when Jeremy had received the invitation, he'd asked to accompany him. It had mostly been dreadful and boring, that's why the man cuddling his face into James' shoulder right now might have had a glass of wine too many.

“Thank you,” James muttered quietly. When he had reached his house and parked the car, he turned the engine off and gave Jeremy a nudge.

“Oh right, we're home,” he mumbled drunkenly and got out.

 _Home,_ James mused quietly. Jeremy didn't call houses home. He hated the idea that any building could be a home. He liked to think of “home” as the place where the people he loved stayed. Which was here, James realized when he opened the door for him. “You are, so called Jeremy Clarkson.”

“Thank you, James Daniel May.” Jeremy walked past him, hung up the jacket at the wrong place and walked up the stairs. After hanging the jacket up at the correct place, James followed suit.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Jeremy woke up with James already awake in his arms. Jeremy's head didn't hurt … just. However, he could recognize all the other signs of having had one drink too many. His mouth was dry and he was sure it smelled like it would after a night of drinking. His toes were a little numb and his eyesight was weak as well. He blinked the fog away and let out a little protesting noise. At that point he felt James move a little, he looked up and gently rested a hand on his naked chest.

“Am good,” Clarkson muttered, and bent down to kiss the top of his head. “Don't worry.”

May nodded, he pressed a gentle kiss on his chest and then rested his head again. They stayed like that for a while; just enjoying the closeness, while their sleepy heads were coming around. However, May had been awake for a while, thinking …

“Clarkson?” he began softly, noticing that Jeremy moved his toes a little. He was most likely playing music in his head.

“Hmm?” his eyes were still closed.

“What was said yesterday got me thinking ...”

“May, love.” Jeremy cleared his throat. “If we'd be having sex every day of the week we'd be dead by the end. We're too old. You know that.”

“I know.” He shook his head, that wasn't where he had wanted to go.

“And we have gay sex, so how do we even chose who gets it which way what time. I mean we switch around, as you are aware.” At this point James found this stupid smile on his face, one only Clarkson was able to put on there. "We could double it. Each day each of us gets it, but we'd just die twice as fast.”

Then Jeremy lifted the blanket which lay around James' shoulders. “I mean I'm tempted ...”

“All right. Stop it.” James shook his head and gave Jeremy's shoulder a painful squeeze.

“Ouch.”

“I'll go and make some breakfast for us. You come when you want to.” James kissed him on the lips, making it last for a long time. When he pulled away, he saw a smug smile on his partner's face. “Yes, I know what I said.”

Then he moved out of bed and headed to the kitchen. He needed more time to think about what he really wanted to talk about. There had been something bugging him, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He had thought that he had this morning, but then the words didn't want to come out, because he didn't have the words to say what he wanted.

 

* * *

 

James hadn't found the rights words over the next few days either. But he found other things for Jeremy instead. He found a new skin for his battered iPhone, a new black tie since Jeremy had ruined the last one and couldn't be bothered to buy a new one, and also a book from Lee Child.

When Jeremy stayed over on Thursday and without planning to leave any time soon, he had become aware of the way James approached him when he had a gift. He closed the Child book and put his reading glasses aside.

“What is it this time?” Jeremy asked and raised his eyebrows. James stopped in his track and let out a sigh.

Maybe Jeremy shouldn't have been so direct. He had guessed that something had been going on in James' head when he had given him a new tie. Then again, Jeremy wouldn't be Jeremy if he were less direct. Something was bothering James, and Jeremy wanted to find out what it was.

“Here.” James simply handed over the letter which was already opened. Jeremy smiled at him and reached inside. He produced two tickets, and luckily the print was large enough that he didn't need his glasses to read them. _James Blunt, Eventime Apollo, Hammersmith - 1_ _st_ _December, 2014._ “Wow, James.”

He looked at James who was still standing there, shifting his weight. “I'm touched, man,” he replied and reached for him with his hand. “But why all this?” Gently, he tucked at James' arm, and the man it belonged to followed suit. James dropped down onto the empty place next to Jeremy, and before Clarkson could warn him and say “James, my glasses!” they already heard a crack.

Jeremy let out a weak laugh and pulled James closer to him. He shifted and manhandled him a little so that James was sitting on his legs. “Now you can get me new ones,” he muttered. He threw what was left of them onto the couch table. Only one of the side-pieces broke off, otherwise they seemed intact. Gently he kissed James and noticed that he buried his head in his shoulders. “Blue ones would be fine, just so we know which belongs to who.” Then he wrapped his arms around James, who not only didn't mind the closeness but seemed to welcome it. “Now, what is it?”

There was a pause until James pulled away a little. They were inches apart, just so they could see each other's faces. “I just want to make sure you know that I love you.”

“But I do know that,” Jeremy protested quickly. He cupped James' face and kissed him gently. “You know that too.”

A weak smile appeared on the other man's face. “It's just ...” he took a deep breath and Jeremy indicated that he should go on. “Just that we've been together for what? Five and a half years?”

“Yeah, about.” His hand wandered to James' back where his thumb drew small circles.

“It's just that we've had that and nothing has really changed” Then he frowned, wondering if that had come out correctly.

“Don't you like the way we run our relationship?”

“No, that's not it. I do like it, I love it.” Jeremy smiled and nodded. They kissed again for a moment. “But I just feel like there should be something that … I mean something that says that we are … we. Does that makes sense?”

Jeremy let out a huff of air. At first he wanted to shake his head, say no. He thought that James was being cryptic on purpose. But then it dawned on him. “James, you idiot. Why haven't you come to me earlier?” Then he hugged him tightly, keeping him safe and warm for a while. “Can I ask something?” he muttered while resting his head on James' shoulder.

A simple nod was the reply.

“Have you ever had a relationship for that long?” Jeremy asked. In all honesty, he could guess the answer to that.

James moved back a little, but was still close to Jeremy, sitting on his legs and keeping his arms around the older man's waist. “No.” His relationship with Sarah had been the longest until now, but life had gotten in the way of that.

Jeremy smiled warmly at him, giving his side a soft squeeze. “Thought so.”

“I mean … I just want” James broke off, trying to find the right words. The ones that had been stuck in his head for so long. “I'm not planning on leaving you. There might actually be a chance that we might grow old together.”

At those words, a warm and frighteningly comfortable feeling spread across Jeremy's stomach. He had know James for so long and still they had never thought that they might make it until the end. Then again, their relationship was mostly run on _We'll see how far we make it._

“If we don't die while shooting the last Top Gear series.” Jeremy let out a weak laugh. “I just … I guess I want something more fixed. Something that says we're … one.” James didn't look at Jeremy when he finished.

“You haven't change your opinion on marriage, have you?” Jeremy asked carefully. He knew that James had a general aversion towards it, never having seen the point in the past. In all honestly, while Jeremy was a man who had been married twice, he could understand that opinion. But since this year, they would be legally allowed to marry, should they wish.

“No,” James replied, biting his lip. “Have you?”

“God no. I've had enough after those two,” Jeremy let out. “And I don't want to ruin this by marrying you.”

For the same reason why they wouldn't have considered marrying in the past – even if it had been legal – they hadn't considered civil partnership. So this was out of the question as well.

Jeremy let out a deep breath and looked at James' face. He still wasn't looking directly him, turning his face towards the floor instead. “Man, you haven't done anything wrong. Don't look so beaten.” Jeremy wrapped his arms tightly around James and pulled him to his chest again. He kissed the top of his head, and drew circles on his back. It didn't take long until he felt James' arms creep around his waist as well.

“James?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you still want to buy that pub when we get old, where we won't let anyone in and only serve your shephard's pie?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah.” Jeremy felt James smile against his shoulder.

“You're a bright boy, and know that pub is short for public house.”

“It has crossed my mind.”

“Since we'll banish the public, it would just be … well, a house. Where we'd live on the upper floor and grow old and even fatter.”

James let out a laugh; he shifted back a little, now able to see Jeremy's face again. Jeremy had an idea, James realized. “What are you on about?”

“I should have told you this when I took the first steps.” James waited patiently for him to go on. “Two weeks ago, I put my house in Chippin Norton up for sale.”

“Jeremy ...”

“No, listen. My donkeys are dead, I have just one dog who lives in London with me and will die pretty soon too. When I'm not in my London flat, I'm usually here with you. I used to keep the house because of the children, but Emily is in Ireland, Finlo is mostly with Francie and his college is London based, with Katya it's almost the same. She likes the city more anyway. The last time I've been up there was three months ago. It's of no use any longer, so I'm selling it.”

James just nodded. It had only been a house for Jeremy; James knew that he didn't get attached to places.

“And I thought that maybe, we two could go and buy a house for our pub ...” There Jeremy spotted a bright smile on James' face. “Which isn't for the public, so our house.”

James shook his head and bent down to kiss Jeremy. “I love you, very very much,” he muttered against his lips.

“And I love you,” Jeremy replied and moved a strand of hair out of James' face. “But we won't buy it in London.”

“No,” James agreed. “But nothing like Gypsy Norton either.”

Jeremy snorted, but agreed. “Not the Sheffied area.”

“God no. But not Wales or Scotland either.”

…

 


	85. Autumn

James paid the woman at the counter and then left the shop. Nervously, he ran his hand through his hair, clearly missing the length of it. It was so short. He liked it, if he was honest.

He made his way down the street while he texted Jeremy. The man was waiting in his AMG in a multi story car park around the corner. He had had to pick up their travel plans for Canada, and had dropped James off at the hairdresser before continuing on his way to the BBC. It had been predictable that he would be quicker.

While the idea had been tempting to let James walk all the way back home, Jeremy had figured that it might cause James to withhold sex, so he had reconsidered.

“Am on the second level,” read James and put his phone away. Again he ran his hand through his shorter hair, hoping that Jeremy would like it. Yes, Jeremy had teased him once or twice that he should get a haircut. But that had only been when his hair had started to reach beyond the shoulders.

Sighing, he walked into the building and took the stairs. Finding an AMG between all the other cars wasn't hard. He saw Jeremy sitting behind the wheel, holding his glasses with one hand. James hadn't gotten around to buying him new ones yet. Jeremy appeared to be texting on his phone, but given that he only had one hand that also took long enough.

James walked up to the car. He saw that Jeremy briefly looked up but didn't really observe him, so his attention was turned back to the phone. James stopped and knocked on the glass. Delighted, he saw how Jeremy's phone almost fell to the floor as the man himself jumped up. The broken blue glasses fell down onto his lap. The older man looked up, seeing James. He squinted for a moment and then he shook his head. But he was smiling brightly.

James took a step to the side and Jeremy got out of the car, leaving the phone and glasses on the seat.

“May,” he called out, observing his hair cut. Nervously, James rubbed the back of his neck. Suddenly he missed the length; he had always been able to hide in it. “Where did the rest of you go? Why so much?” Jeremy asked.

He just shrugged his shoulders. “Global warming? High temperatures?”

Jeremy laughed and shook his head, taking a step towards James. “It's September.”

James shifted his weight slightly. “Do you .. do you like it?” he asked carefully. He rarely asked Clarkson whether he liked anything about him.

The other man nodded in reply. “May I?” he asked carefully.

James nodded quietly, smiling at Jeremy's question. Carefully, Jeremy lifted his hand and gently ran his hand through James' short hair. He felt the softness, it was like running his hand over a new brush. Soft and ticklish at the same time. When James looked up, he saw a gentle smile on Jeremy's face, his eyes transfixed by the task. Then Jeremy's hand wandered to cup his cheek, he stroking it, and then Jeremy bent down to kiss the slightly shorter man. James rested a hand on Jeremy's waist and kissed him back.

“I like it,” Jeremy muttered against his lips. Form afar they heard footsteps walking across the empty deck. Jeremy's hand left him reluctantly. “Now get in.”

James agreed and walked to the other side of the car. He moved Jeremy's glasses and phone from the seat to save them from being sat on. One time had been more than enough.

“Reminds me, we're starting in the evening with the Canada clip. Hammond's almost there,” Jeremy explained as he started the engine. “And when you get my new glasses, please take my new prescription with you, was at the doctor's two days ago.”

“Okay.” James smiled, and he put the glasses in the pocket of his jacket for safekeeping. “Blue again?”

“Yes.” Jeremy liked the colour, and they needed a way to distinguish their glasses, seeing as they needed a similar prescription and preferred the same style. Since they were spending so much time together, they mixed up their glasses all the time. Not that they had minded, usually they just used the pair that was more convenient.

They had set off right for the restaurant, having a wonderful dinner. Even though it was in front of the camera, James had enjoyed it very much. He didn't care if it might show; so what? People seemed to be blind anyway.

After they had shot the scene where they had booked their flight, they had driven back to Hammersmith. They had crawled into bed, and Jeremy had gently wrapped his arms around James' waist, cuddling up with him. He nuzzled his nose into the nape of his neck. Secretly he missed the tickle of the longer hair, but he had to admit that this had its advantages. Especially since he could, now stay in that place for the whole night. James realised that too, he smiled to himself; placing his hand on top of Jeremy's.

“I love you,” he heard Jeremy mutter, and then felt a kiss being place on his neck.

“I love you too.”

  
  


 


	86. Grove

“I just love Butch Cassidy” Jeremy muttered as he followed James into the grove house.

James nodded. “I know.” He didn't care all that much about it, but Jeremy could catch someone easily just with his passion for something. It was his way, and James loved it. They turned a corner.

“Ours?” Jeremy asked, seeing the double bed.

“Looks like it.” James dumped their bags and sat down on the bed. Comfy. It had been a while since they had actually had a proper bed while filming a special. This might even turn out to be a good journey.

“I like it,” Jeremy mumbled, as he walked to the window. He looked outside, seeing the stars break through the clouds.

James closed the door and began to slip out of his suit. He had thought it funny. Looking all James Bond when he would arrive in his sleek car.

“I really like you in that jacket.” James heard Jeremy. He just rolled his eyes. “Suits your really well.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He folded the jacket and hung it over a chair.

“It does. With that hair-cut. Makes you look really handsome.”

“Jeremy ...” James began, knowing that he was teasing him. “All right, stop it. I know I don't.”

“You do!” Jeremy turned around and walked towards James. “It's a serious panty dropper. Well … boxer dropper in my case. I'm a man.”

“I don't remember that.” It was his turn to tease.

“I'm not joking.” Jeremy's voice was soft, his eyes warm. Soon James felt Jeremy's hand fumble with the buttons of his shirt. “I really love it.”

“Jeremy ...” James cleared his throat. “I … you know that I'm not _that_ handsome.”

“You are.” Jeremy insisted as he slipped James' shirt off his shoulders. “Far better than me,” he added mumbling. Jeremy liked his own hips and legs, but it ended there. He didn't care for his face, he couldn't deny the bald patch, and his stomach looked like he had swallowed a ballerina.

“I love how you look,” James reassured him.

“I know that.” Jeremy really did. He liked that. “But if I can believe you, why can't you believe me?”

Weakly, James shrugged his shoulders. “Because I just know that I'm not ...”

“You are for me,” Jeremy mumbled. He kissed James softly, letting his hands wander along his chest. He saw all the little things that James thought were faults, but to him they were perfect. If James wouldn't be 'a bit fat,' Jeremy wouldn't have such a comfortable place to sleep on. Jeremy liked a body that told a story, a small scar here, a few wrinkles there. James really was perfect in Jeremy's mind.

James' hand gently tugged Jeremy's jacket off. He began to laugh a little. “Why do you wear so many layers?”

“Because it's cold,” Jeremy explained. He began to nibble on his neck, and James' knees went weak. Jeremy pushed him towards the bed, pressing him down gently, towering over him as a warm hand ran along his spine.

“Hmm,” James hummed happily.

Then he felt Jeremy's lips on his back, going the same way his hand had gone. _So very nice_ , James mused. Then Jeremy paused for a moment. Long enough for James to consider turning over.

“Don't say anything cheesy like _I'm going to show you how pretty you are,_ ” James muttered.

A moment later, he heard Jeremy laughing above him. James peaked over his shoulder – Jeremy had already slipped out his own shirt as well - and joined in. He shook his head; laughter didn't ruin the mood for them.

“I wasn't planning on saying that. But yes.” Jeremy kissed him, his hand gently stroking along his jawline. “I was just wondering where we have ...”

“My bag, the small pocket on the inside,” James explained. Jeremy crawled off the bed. James reached for a pillow so he had something nicer to rest his head on.

“I always wonder what customs think when they see that,” Jeremy mumbled as he went through James' bag. He found the little bottle quickly. “What's your word?”

“Vauxhall?” James wondered.

“No, that's mine.” He crawled back in the bed, settling on James' legs, keeping them trapped between his.

“Erm … Airfix.”

“Good.” Jeremy mouthed the word a few times, while he let his hand glide along James' back.

Jeremy worked his hand into the stiff muscles. Then he placed soft kisses there. Soon his hands left James' back all together. They settled on his hip, Jeremy's thumb drawing small circles while his lips kissed along James' shoulder, leaving a mark or two where it was safe. Jeremy pressed his hips against James' arse, drawing a quiet moan out of him. James closed his eyes.

Jeremy's hands slipped under James' trousers, and with a final kiss between his shoulders blades, he pulled them down. Jeremy dropped to his knees between James' legs. His hand drew a long line down James' entire body. It sent a shiver down James' spine.

James felt Jeremy's mouth kissing along his legs, giving both of them the same amount of attention, leaving a mark here and there. His arm was slung around James' waist, pulling him close, exposing him fully.

A moan escaped James. “Oh god,” he muttered, feeling Jeremy's tongue circle his anus. The grip around his hip tightened, keeping him from bucking. Jeremy's free hand stroked along his thigh, giving him something steady, almost comforting. James held tightly onto the pillow.

 _God_ _yes_ , Jeremy was good. So damned good. James ground his teeth, trying to keep the sounds to himself. His grip tightened feeling his tongue push past the rim. In and out.

“Fuck,” James moaned, as he tried to push closer. But Jeremy's grip didn't allow it. Soon he felt Jeremy's hand running along the length of his back. It provided steady comfort in the overwhelming warmth and wetness. Jeremy adjusted his angle a little bit.

“All right?” Jeremy asked quietly. James knew that he could put a stop to all of this. That if it became too much he just had to say the word. Jeremy would just take him in his arms, and whisper comforting words. But James didn't want to. He didn't want to stop this. So he just nodded.

“You're doing fine,” Jeremy muttered and ran his cheek along a buttock. The sensitive flesh reacted to the stubble, and then Jeremy relentlessly went back to the task ahead.

James just let him. His fingers were digging helplessly into the pillow, while he just gave himself over. Letting Jeremy do as he pleased. A loud moan escaped him. James' body wasn't under his own control any longer. It wanted to buck, it wanted to shy away from the intensity, but James didn't. He wanted to press closer, he wanted to feel more, so much more. James felt Jeremy's hand pressing down on his shoulder. His hand keeping him in place. Damn the man and his long arms. It stayed there, keeping him down, while Jeremy's thumb stroke his shoulder.

A sound of protest escaped James as Jeremy pulled back, his hand still pinning him down. _Fucking hell,_ he wanted the man. Badly, very badly. “Ssh,” Jeremy calmed him as James tried to free himself. “It's okay.”

James nodded, some sense returning to him. Jeremy's hand left his shoulder, and for a moment there was nothing. Nothing that James was able to notice. At least until he felt a finger working its way into James. Making him ache and moan.

“Ssh.” Jeremy's hand stroked along his back. Keeping him calm without pushing him down. James felt the second and then the third finger shorty afterwards. God it didn't take long. A pillow was shoved under James because he was barely able to keep himself up anyway.

Jeremy bent over James, his arm steadying his hip again. Keeping James in place as Jeremy pushing into him. James rolled his hips, breathing heavily, just wanting him, just hoping that Jeremy would fuck him. Fuck him senseless.

He didn't. He moved agonisingly slow. Smooth strokes but so slow. Jeremy kissed his shoulder, and then bit it gently, while James just held onto what he had. Torture, such sweet, wonderful torture.

“Fucking hell, Clarkson!” he shouted and felt Jeremy giggle in response.

Jeremy kissed the nape of his neck and pushed into him once. Hard. James let out a scream. _God yes._

However, he continued at that slow pace, slow and steady, while James' body was burning, just demanding hot and fast. He couldn't do anything. He was pinned down by Jeremy. He was kept in place by Jeremy's arm, and could feel small kisses being placed on his shoulder, and Jeremy biting down from time to time.

“God please,” James moaned into his pillow. “Fuck me.”

“Mmh.”

James was desperate when it felt like Jeremy was about to pull out. _No please, just_ … he didn't. He picked a pace, moving fast, just not fast enough. Jeremy propped himself on the elbows, putting more weight on James. It was not enough to bother the man, and his hand covered James. Tightly he held onto Jeremy. Feeling his cock, moving inside of him. Faster and faster. James held onto what he had. Trying to push against Jeremy, trying to do anything and he was denied. God, he loved it. He wanted more, so much more. He needed more.

“Jeremy,” he breathed helplessly, feeling his muscles tighten, feeling Jeremy's grip tighten. Feeling him move so perfectly. Fucking …

“It's all right,” Jeremy whispered, breathlessly.

James shook his head. It was too much, it was just too much.

“I've got you, love.” Jeremy gave his hand a tight squeeze. James didn't think it was even possible, they were already clinging to each other so tightly. “I've got you, James.”

He ground his teeth, pressing his arse against Jeremy's. This time Jeremy let him. They moved perfectly, and James … he became undone with a sound that Jeremy hadn't heard before. He helplessly rode it out, his body shaking, eyes closed, his fingers so tightly around Jeremy's that he feared he might break them. He breathed heavily, and all the tension escaped his body.

 

* * *

 

When James came back to himself, he was sitting upright, his arms around the familiar body of Jeremy Clarkson. His head was buried in the place between neck and shoulder, and he felt Jeremy's arms tightly around him, while a hand drew comforting circles.

“Hmm.” He tried to shift slightly, but gave up after the first inch or so.

“Thank god,” Jeremy mumbled softly. “I was worried for a minute or two.”

“How long was I gone?” James asked against his shoulder.

Jeremy kissed the top of his head. “Half an hour.”

“Wow.” That had never happened before.

That they need a few moments afterwards was normal. Then they'd usually loll around, like they were doing now. However, Jeremy had never fucked James into a black-out before. James smiled to himself. Why didn't that thought scare him? Naked, completely at the mercy of another man.

“I think you may have woken up Hammond.”

James laughed quietly, shaking his head. He didn't care. A comet could have hit the house and he wouldn't have cared. “And they say that sex gets worst with age.”

Jeremy smirked, kissing him again. “Liars.”

“I need to reward you for that in the morning,” James muttered.

“Gladly.”

 


	87. Star

“Here.” Jeremy gently reached under James arms, helping him get back up on his feet.

They had eaten some beaver for the camera, they had eaten some in real life as well. After the cameras had been cut, the exhaustion became visible on James' face. Yes, his injury had been teased about and luckily nothing was broken, but it was bruised very badly. This could have easily gone very, very wrong. So when he told everyone that he would retire, Jeremy had jumped at the chance to do the same and helped James to his feet.

“You don't have to be so nice all the time,” James complained, but did nothing to brush Jeremy off. “It's getting weird.”

Clarkson just huffed in reply and let James lean on him. Together they reached their tent, and James crawled in first. Jeremy followed suit.

“Why are you being so nice?” James asked as he fought his way out of his puffy jacket.

Jeremy crawled behind him and gently began to tug at it. “Just am.”

“Clarkson,” James protested a little bit. He turned over when half the the jacket was undone. He could slip out of the other sleeve by himself. “I know you, old man. More than I thought I'd ever would. I know that you fart when you eat cauliflower.”

“You're not the one to talk about farting,” Jeremy replied quickly. It lacked the smugness, that meant James was onto something.

“I know.” James smiled, shaking his head. “What are you thinking about? And it's not your number plate, is it?”

Jeremy shook his head. If it had just been the number plate, Jeremy wouldn't have been so overly nice to James all the time.

“I should have … I should have helped you,” Jeremy muttered quietly. He was beginning to fold the jacket just to give his hands something to do.

“You did.”

Yes, there was the teasing here and there. However, what the camera didn't show was that Jeremy had been working for James on his trailer; making sure it was done properly. That he had helped him walk about all the time. That he had helped James _hop out of the car_ and offered himself to lean against him, while they were looking at the beautiful landscape. The camera also didn't show all the times that Jeremy had been his pillow, keeping him warm and safe.

“I meant right after you fell off. Instead I cracked a bad joke, which won't make it into the final film anyway.”

James let out a small laugh; he reached for Jeremy's hand and gave it a squeeze. Another thing that the camera hadn't shown was that after the crew had moved away, Jeremy had rushed to James' side, and he and Hammond had helped him walk to the van. It would never show that Jeremy had sat next him while the doctor had checked him over.

“Jeremy,” James began softly. “Stop beating yourself up. You did everything I would have wanted someone to do.”

The other man's eyes finally met his. There was a slow nod, even though he still seemed unsure.

“And you've done more than I could have wanted since I fell off.” A soft smile formed on James' lips.

“Still, I'm sorry.”

“I know,” James replied. “But you don't have to be. And I rather sleep on you than on Brokeback.”

Finally a weak smile formed on Jeremy's lips. “Why did you have to name it Brokeback?”

“Because Brokeback is about two bisexual cowboys and I thought I would fit our situation,” James explained with a shrug.

“We're not cowboys.”

“You wore a stupid cowboy hat, which I haven't been able to talk you out of, and as Bon Jovi said _on a steel horse I ride,_ and you take it up the arse. I rest my case.”

Jeremy laughed and shook his head. James couldn't help and joined in. This was much better.

“Wow, look at that!” someone of the crew shouted, pointing at the sky. The zip of the tent was still open, and so the shout distracted Jeremy enough to stick his head outside and have a look.

James could see his profile and could see what a wonderful effect the view had. The worry, which had quietly loomed over him, disappeared. Instead it was replaced by a gentle smile. He formed a word but James had never understood what he said.

“James, look,” he mumbled and reached for him with his hand. James took it, straining a little, he moved next to Jeremy. Now, he could see what had astonished everyone.

“That's beautiful,” he replied. Jeremy sat back on his heels and James took the opportunity to kiss his cheek.

It tickled a little, because it had been a few days since either of them had shaved. Sometimes James enjoyed the feeling of his scruff, but Jeremy had an aversion to it. Three days without shaving were okay, after that his tolerance ended.

“What was that for?” Jeremy asked and turned to face him.

James shrugged his shoulders. “Just because.”

Then he shifted a little closer and gently kissed Jeremy, holding his face in his hands. Jeremy relaxed quickly; he let out a happy hum and settled his hands on James' hip.

“I might love you.”

“I hope you do,” Jeremy replied quietly and a wide smile formed on his lips. Then they kissed again, this time letting it last for a moment. The only thing on their mind was being together beneath the beautiful stars above their heads.

Maybe they didn't have the most romantic relationship, but for them it worked perfectly. Moments like these were highly appreciated. They were lost in their own little world, and didn't notice that Richard had briefly torn his gaze away from the spectacle above their heads.

For a moment he was inclined to make some joke, say that they should keep it at home, get a room or fake some retching. However, he soon came to realize that this moment was too precious, and so he smiled to himself instead.

He noticed how Jeremy moved back a little, gently helping James to crawl over one of his long legs, so that he could sit between them. James' back was resting against Jeremy's frame, head rolled back onto his shoulders and looking at the sky. Jeremy's arms held James around his waist, and rested his head against James'. They were talking quietly, and sometimes rarely Jeremy kissed the top of James' head who closed his eyes in return, but mostly they were looking at the stars.

Richard had sometimes wondered how their relationship worked. More often had he wondered how it had worked, especially over such a long time. But even though he didn't understand it, he was really glad that his mates had each other. And in moments like these, the mystery was unravelled a little.

 


	88. War

It was being told that they were searching the hotel rooms that had really shocked them. They had already been provided with rooms that they weren't checked into. In all honesty, Jeremy didn't think that things could have gotten much worse.

He had had a shit year and it was about to only just get worse. He had really promised himself to be much more kind, to stop the stereotyping he sometimes tended to do. Even though he had never meant to use the n-word, it had slipped out and it hadn't been good enough to just make sure that the clip wouldn't be used. The BBC had given him his final warning ...

He had realized that he didn't want to lose this show. It was like a child to him, and he had promised himself that he would be a new Jeremy. A better Jeremy. However, now it was his car, or rather the number plate that had already been on it when it was bought. They hadn't meant it to be offensive, hadn't even registered that there was a problem, until they had discovered the public reaction and realized how bad it really was. Then they had offered to replace the number plate while on side roads, but even that didn't help.

Although he wasn't to blame, Jeremy feared that the BBC might see the situation in a different light. And he didn't even want to think about the tabloids. The Daily Mail. The Daily Mirror.

That situation alone was bad enough. But then Andy informed them that the violet protesters were searching all the rooms. They had to hide, quickly.

There was no way to get out of the hotel; all the exits were blocked by Argentinians. The only possible solution had been to hide under beds …

Clarkson stared at the bed above him. He didn't need to turn his head to check if Hammond had managed to crawl under; their shoulders were touching already. The two men did barely fitted under one bed. When he turned his head to the right, he saw May under a single bed. James looked at them, concern visible on his face, and Jeremy knew that he and Richard had to have the same look.

“You're all hidden,” Clarkson whispered, and May gave him a tense nod. Then the waiting began …

For some time it seemed like there was nothing, no footsteps, no shouts. It was frightening. No sound, it seemed like there was no danger at all. But the situation was tense until Wilman gave them the all-clear.

Jeremy let out a breath and hoped that all the other crew members would reach safety soon, that none of them would be discovered by the Argentinians. He knew that the presenters were the targets of the hatred, but still he feared that the angry mob would focus their hate on any crew member they could lay their hands on.

For a brief and selfish moment he wished that it wasn't Richard he was cramped up to, but May. Had that been the case, it would be clear where they were hiding because there wasn't enough space and his gut would have stuck out.

Then he felt a small hand on his biceps: Richard. He gave him a reassuring squeeze and Jeremy just nodded in reply. They didn't dare to speak a word.

Clarkson closed his eyes and tried to stay calm. He didn't want to imagine worst-case-scenarios, didn't want to think about people searching their rooms, and whether they would be armed or not.

No matter how much he tried, he couldn't help thinking these things and being afraid. It scared him that his last words to May might have been _of course it's bloody see through!_ He remembered the promise to his ex-wife, that he'd take the children for a week if she took them now while he went to Patagonia. She would have done that anyway, but Jeremy had let her negotiate. Then he thought about his children. He had texted with Emily yesterday, Finlo was busy with school projects and Katya had complained about boarding school. If things got really bad, maybe they wouldn't hear from their dad anymore.

His train of thoughts was stopped when he heard footfalls from the door. Jeremy held his breath and felt Hammond do the same. This time he sought eye-contact with James. They had to get out of here, Jeremy told himself, if he willed the world to allow them that. He was stubborn enough. They just had to get out of here alive.

It wasn't long before the door flew open. Somebody was talking in Spanish and then the footsteps came closer. It was only one pair, Jeremy realized, as he tracked the movement as best as he could. He held his breath. The feet where now to the right, right next to James' bed. Then they came towards him and Richard. The feet stopped near Jeremy's own feet. In that moment, his heart seemed to stop. Then the footsteps set off again; Jeremy hadn't been noticed. The feet stopped again next to the window.

They waited, Jeremy quickly looked at James. The other man seemed to shrugged his shoulders. The intruder could not see them, but they also couldn't see more than his feet, so they didn't know whether he was armed or not.

The footsteps sounded again, faster this time. They reached Richard's position, then Jeremy's, then they were almost out of the door, and then … nothing. The intruder had stopped.

Jeremy's breathing quickened; he wasn't outside yet so the danger wasn't over. Where was he? Where? Why didn't he leave?

Suddenly a sharp yell rang through the room. Jeremy heard it again. _James!_ He realized quickly. He turned his head, and only saw James being dragged out from under the bed.

 _No, no, no!_ He heard another yell, this time a shout of pain. _This couldn't be happening._

There was no time to consider his actions. Jeremy got out from his hiding place and shouted at the Argentinian. The man let his fist sink down and turned around. James shouted again, obviously in pain. His head was tugged back brutally by the grip on his hair; the Argentinian was using James as a shield.

 _What for?_ Jeremy was unarmed after all.

Jeremy didn't need to be armed, he didn't care. He just needed to get the upper hand. He needed to make sure that James would be safe. So he shouted. He shouted demands to let James go. If he didn't release James right now Jeremy would hurt him, even kill him. Jeremy wasn't sure what he was shouting. He couldn't care, the only thing he cared about was James, whose face was twisted in pain, as he heard his agonized scream when the Argentinian elbowed him in the ribs.

He remembered James' shout of pain when the Argentinian pushed him away. Jeremy had caught him, just. He staggered a few steps back, almost falling to the ground. James was clinging onto him, his hand dug into his shirt. He could feel that James couldn't stand on his feet much longer.

“Go away. Leave,” Jeremy pleaded with the Argentinian. “Just leave.”

But it didn't matter. It was the first time that Jeremy noticed that this man was indeed armed. And it was the first time in his life that he found himself staring at the wrong end of a gun.

“You don't want to do this,” Jeremy muttered, feeling his vision blur. “You really don't.”

Inadvertently he tightened his arms around James, as if that would keep the bullet away. The man seemed to weaver slightly, his hand shook. Maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't shoot them.

“Just turn around and leave. Please.” Jeremy tried again. He saw the Argentinian take a deep breath. _It is no good._ Instead of hearing a bang, he heard a crack and something shatter.

“Hammond!” Jeremy let out surprised shout as the Argentinian went to the ground and luckily stayed there. Behind him stood Richard Hammond, holding a broken lamp in his hands.

“That's got him.”

“Quick! Close to the door.”

Hammond ran across the room and slammed the door shut. Next, they found something to bind the man's legs and arms, and then left.

Jeremy was quick to guide James to the bed. There was no point in crawling back under it, so they settled down on top of it. James was still clinging to Jeremy. Whether that was because of the pain, or out of a wish of comfort, Jeremy couldn't tell. Maybe a mixture of both.

“It's all right,” Jeremy muttered and rubbed along James' side.

Richard sat down at the edge of the bed and handed him a glass of water. For the next few minutes, they just sat like that. Jeremy had one arm around James' waist, while the other man rested his head on Jeremy's shoulder. Richard meanwhile was leaving a comforting hand on James' shoulder.

On the same day they got out of this hell hole.

 


	89. Border

Their head of security had decided that they should be the ones to leave quickly. After all the anger was mostly directed at them. If they would be able to get out as fast as possible, the rest of the crew might be able to leave the country unharmed. At least they hoped that this was the correct choice.

“We think that it's better if you leave ahead of the rest of the crew,” he finished the explanation. Jeremy and Richard were still sitting on the bed, and Jeremy had one hand resting on James' shoulder. It was his way of giving James a little comfort. However, the tears had dried and he seemed to recover well. He was sitting up straight again, acting like he hadn't experienced any fear, like nothing had caused any damage.

“Then we should,” Richard agreed and got on his feet. “I guess since we haven't unpacked, we can leave now.”

Jeremy nodded. There was nothing that he wanted to do more. “Lean on me,” he offered James quietly.

“No,” James replied coldly and made his way to the edge of the bed.

“Was just offering some help,” Jeremy explained as he grabbed his and James' bag.

“I can manage fine on my own.”

Then he snatched his bag from Jeremy's hand as he made his way outside. The tone had been so vile that even Richard had looked up. Clarkson could just stare and shrugged his shoulders. He didn't know what had caused James to react like that …

“He'll come around,” Hammond reassured him. This was just how May was coping, Richard assumed. Maybe Jeremy didn't realise it, but he had risked his life to save him. And he acted like that was nothing …

Together they made their way down to the Ranger Rover which was waiting for them. May was already in the back seat and Hammond called shot gun, so Jeremy crawled into the back. At first he wasn't sure what to do … he just remained quiet.

A sound recordist also entered the back of the car. Jeremy moved one seat to the side, wanting to be able to sit next to James, even if he seemed somewhere else. Jeremy knew that they and the women would be transported from the danger zone as fast as possible. They didn't talk as the car set off and a second Ranger Rover followed them to the airport. There was no police escort; they were afraid that this might attract too much attention.

Jeremy looked at James when they were halfway along the way. His mind seemed to be fixed on something very far away. Quietly he reached for him, and gently took his hand. This time James didn't pull away. Instead, he let out a long breath and looked outside the window. His eyes were sad, Jeremy realized. Then he felt him give his hand a squeeze.

 

* * *

 

The first thing everyone did after reaching the airport was let out a breath. This time James let Jeremy carry his bag. Then everyone called their families. Jeremy chose the simple route, he didn't want to explain it all to Finlo, Emily and Katya. Instead, he just phoned Francie, said that he was exhausted, and asked her to pass on the message that they were safe.

“Katya asked about you,” Francie added quietly before Clarkson was able to hang up.

There was a moment of silence, Jeremy didn't want to think about how scared his little girl must have been. He swallowed hard and nodded while he blinked tears away. “Just tell her I'm fine … and that I love her.”

“I will. Jeremy?”

“Hmm?”

“I'm also glad you're fine.”

Clarkson nodded in reply. “Thank you. I'll have to hang up now,” he lied. He let out a shaky breath. Then felt Richard's hand on his arm.

“Everything all right?” he asked.

Jeremy just nodded. “You?” he asked back.

“Yeah. Nothing to worry about.”

Jeremy took another breath.

“Have you seen May?” Jeremy asked quickly.

“Erm. I think he went to the loo.”

“Thanks,” Jeremy replied and went to find him. There was only one men's bathroom in the small airport, and when Jeremy opened the door, he saw James leaning over the sink. The water was running and he took deep breaths.

Jeremy opened the door wider and stepped inside, almost making James jump back. “Jeremy?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Carefully, Jeremy walked to the sink next to James', and washed his hands and face as well. The saltiness from the tears was gone quickly, and he realized that James must have done the same thing. He took a deep breath, unsure whether he should mention it. James wasn't a man who reacted well when other people tried to force him to talk. He usually locked himself away and worked it out by himself. “Did you … did you call everyone?”

James nodded. “Parents. Siblings.” There was no one else, after all he had no children, and his partner was here with him, running for the border.

Jeremy nodded. “Are you … are you all right?” he asked carefully.

Shaking his head and trying to avoid eye-contact, James begged quietly. “Jeremy, please. Don't make me do this right now. Not here.”

“Where else?”

“I don't know.” James felt a tear run down his cheek. He had tried hard to keep all of this to himself.

He felt Jeremy move towards him, then felt his hand gently cupping his face. Jeremy's thumb was wiping away his tears. James looked up at him, shaking his head very slightly, and took a deep breath. Then Jeremy took a step forward and kissed James' on the top of James' head, and soon James found himself in Jeremy's arms.

Comfortable, warm and safe.

This opened the flood gates, and James could feel the wave of emotions that were forcing their way out. Anger, panic, fear and downright sadness. _This wasn't right!_ He sobbed into Jeremy's chest and shook his head.

“Why?” James muttered against the nape of his neck. “Why did you do it?”

Jeremy just shrugged his shoulders, and when James pulled back a little, he could see the faint glittering in his eyes as well.

“Why did you … why did you just jump out!” James was almost shouting. “You could have been killed! He had a fucking gun! You have children!” There was a pause before a strangled sob escaped his throat. “I'm just … if I'd died it wouldn't have mattered ...”

A weak laugh escaped Jeremy and he felt a tear run down his face. “I really want to punch you for that right now.” He shook his head. “How can you be so fucking thick?”

James let his shoulder sag. He didn't know what to do, what to say.

“Do you think I care?” Jeremy asked sharply. “That I would have cared if I had died? Or were injured?”

“You have children.”

“Damn right I do!” He took a shaky breath. “And if I had died saving Emily, do you think I would have cared then? I wouldn't have. And I bloody hell don't care if I would have been killed saving you. I love you, James. I would …” There was a pause and Jeremy wiped away the tears that were falling down his face. “I would be devastated if I had lost you.”

James closed his eyes. They had never said these things out loud before. They both knew, but to hear it was something else entirely.

“I would gladly give my life for my children and I would gladly give it for you. Fucking hell, even for Richard.” Jeremy tilted James' chin up, making him look at him. “Back then, you were the one who needed me. So I really couldn't give a fuck.”

“But ...”

“I didn't care. Or I cared too much, however you want to put it.”

Jeremy wiped the hair out of James' face and kissed the top of his head again. “Jeremy ...” James began, his voice a mere whisper. He wasn't sure if he would be able to talk any louder right now.

At that moment, Richard walked into the loo. Both men jumped, but Jeremy kept his arms around James. Richard stopped in his way, seeing the state they were in. “Am I interrupting?”

James let out a breath and had to keep a smile to himself.

“What gives you that idea?” Jeremy asked sarcastically.

“Trust me, this is not as bad as hearing you two have sex.” Richard took a step inside and the door fell shut behind him.

“Own fault if you listen too closely,” James replied and just shrugged his shoulders.

“Funny. I was sent out to tell you that our flight is leaving soon. We'll switch planes later on.” Then he waited a moment. “Are you two … all right again?”

Weakly Jeremy smiled to himself. It was quite touching to see Richard actually care, not just about them individually, but about their relationship as well. He turned to James, who was watching him already. “Yeah,” James replied and kissed Jeremy quickly.

 

* * *

 

In the aeroplane, the exhaustion had finally showed. James was sitting next to Jeremy who was sitting next to Richard. Quietly, Jeremy had sneaked his hand into James'. The grip was tight and comforting. Soon they had fallen asleep, Jeremy's head resting on James' shoulder, and he was drooling a little bit. James' head was leaning against Jeremy's. Richard was also snoring, his head thrown back and mouth wide open.

“Mummy?” A small girl asked one row in front of them. “Why is the man holding that man's hand?”

The mother turned around, wondering what her daughter was seeing again. She let out a small surprised gasp as she noticed who these men were. Quietly she reached for her phone, taking a photo of the scene in front of her.

“They just like each other a lot,” she explained to her daughter. She planned to sell the photo to the media. However, she was unaware of what had recently transpired, why they were on that plane and were so exhausted, so when she arrived back home, nobody picked her up on her offer.

 


	90. Contest

“I'm Jeremy Clarkson and I have written an book. This is it, and it's called _What Could Possibly Go Wrong …_ which in my life is pretty much every single thing all the time. Eeerm, so why don't you read it and find out?”

James smiled weakly. Jeremy had been sent the final video for his book promotion. He had handed it over to James to check it over, to give it his okay. Maybe to see if there was any political incorrectness in it. Even the slightest thing seemed to get him into trouble lately. He watched as the Jeremy on the tablet began to answer whether he'd prefer Hammond or May in certain situations.

““ _Hammond or May? Phone a Friend.”_ Irritatingly that would have to be May.”

James smiled weakly at that reply.

“Unless the questions were about tractors or soil. In which case it'd be Hammond.”

James scratched his still present bread. They had only retuned from Argentina two days ago, and normally they would have shaved by now. But Jeremy's beard was still there was well. It sounded idiotic, almost banal, however, after all the chaos that Argentina had left behind, shaving had just become unimportant. Since they were men, that was quite okay too. As long as it would go at some point, James didn't mind.

He hadn't bothered to shave his own beard either, so he wasn't allowed to complain. In quiet and weak moments, May had to admit that he enjoyed the slight tickle that Jeremy's stubbles left on his soft cheeks. He had also enjoyed the feeling when Jeremy had come home, the sun long gone, throwing his keys into the bowl, stating that May should log into Jeremy's email account – he knew his password anyway – and check out the video which Penguin must have sent by now. Then Jeremy had kissed him and gone to bed.

““ _Hammond or May? Cell Mate.”_ Hammond” The Jeremy on the screen looked into the camera, slightly scared. Telling the whole world know what he was implying, the little jokes that May had always given him permission to make. Especially since May made them about himself too. James shook his head, laughing quietly. “I'm not … I'm just saying Hammond.”

James was still smiling to himself as the video finished, and then the iPad's screen went dark. This must have been the first time he had laughed since the thing in Argentina had happened. Taking a deep breath, he put the tablet aside and went into the bedroom.

Jeremy was lying on his side, his feet tucked in, and misusing a pillow for cuddling. James knew that he wasn't asleep yet, but was trying very hard. With a sigh he padded to his side of the bed and slipped under the sheets. He pulled Jeremy closer, wrapping his arms around his waist. “Come here,” he muttered, and kissed the nape of his neck.

“Was it okay?” Jeremy asked when he had found a comfortable way to rest his head on James' arm.

“It was brilliant.”

“Thank you.”

“I just have a small comment,” James muttered.

“About?”

“Cell mate.” James shook his head when Jeremy was about to explain the obvious. “No, not that. That joke was fine. But you'd be my prison bitch.”

Jeremy laughed quietly and shook his head. “I don't want to be your prison bitch. That's why I picked Hammond.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“He's easier to dominate.” Jeremy shrugged his shoulders and turned over. Now he tried to find a comfortable place on James' chest. That was an easy task. “And the obvious joke, of course.”

James laughed and kissed the top of his head. “You'd be my prison bitch.”

“Stop it,” Jeremy muttered. However, James could feel the smile on his lips. That was Jeremy's own fault if he pressed his face into his chest.

“You'd be. And you'd like it.” James rubbed along Jeremy's shoulders, noticing that his muscles were still taunt. “I'd have you lie down and spread you apart while taking my sweet time.”

Jeremy laughed and shook his head. “May, mate. Love, I know you think this is all turning me on, but not today. Really.”

“I know,” James replied. He had known that, but his actual goal – to help Jeremy relax a little – had been achieved. Jeremy let out a long breath, and James felt the small muscles between his shoulders relax.

“Thank you,” Jeremy muttered and kissed him. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

 

* * *

 

The next morning, James had woken up to find Jeremy walking out of the bathroom, face shaved clean. James was still so drunk on sleep that he muttered, “Oh thank god. He shaved it off.” Jeremy shook his head, bent over him and kissed him. “Your turn, or I'll grow it again.”

Their argument of who would be who's prison bitch had been settled a week later. James had woken up with Jeremy still sleeping in his arms, his head comfortably resting on James' arm, and he let his hand run down Jeremy's naked back. He spotted a bite mark that he shouldn't have left there, having held Jeremy's arms above his head while slowing fucking every last bit of sense out of him.

“Hmm?”

“Told you, you're my prison bitch,” James muttered, and kissed the small bite mark. He really shouldn't have left it there.

Jeremy laughed and turned over. “It's not a contest, May. I never said that I wouldn't be.” He kissed James. He liked to do that much more when he was clean-shaven. “Just that I don't want to be. Then I'd have to clean your shit and do everything you say. I'd rather die before doing that.”

Shaking his head, James couldn't help but laugh.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The video I'm referring to:[ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z8NpMoRqa8U ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z8NpMoRqa8U)


	91. Trick

James rolled his eyes when Jeremy's hands left his and he fell behind. At first he didn't even plan on slowing down, knowing that the tall idiot would catch up but then he heard his loud laughter across the street.

“What are you doing?” he asked, turning around. Jeremy shook his head and typed something on his phone. A few seconds after he had put his phone away, James felt his own phone vibrating.

“Huh?” he got it out, seeing the wicked smile on Jeremy's face. James noticed the twitter notification and opened the app.

“ _This is what's wrong with where @MrJamesMay lives. #hammersmith”_ James read out loud. Attached to the tweet was a picture of something that might have been a bicycle once, but now only one wheel was connected. James rolled his eyes, but a weak smile formed on his lips. “Idiot.”

Jeremy was lazily walking towards him and shrugged his shoulders. There was a shy smile on his lips. “Just telling the truth.”

James shook his head. “You'll pay,” he swore. “You utter clot. I let you into my home and my place.”

“Your place?” Jeremy raised his eyebrows. “Didn't know you were the Mayor of Hammersmith, or London.”

“Might be.” James felt Jeremy's arm around his shoulders. Jeremy turned James a little and they continued to walk. There weren't many people on the street, and it was their first time to go out on a date since Argentina. The yellow press had lost interest again and both men had relaxed recently. At least when it came to appearing together in public. Jeremy was making sure that their new series would be perfect, and hence spent more time than usual working on scripts. James didn't mind, he assumed that it would pass as soon as they were done filming the segments. As long as Jeremy slept enough, and ate enough, James wasn't too worried. Despite working more than usual, Jeremy hadn't forgotten about their evening tonight. James had bought the tickets months ago, and a week before the concert was due, he could hear Jeremy humming James Blunt songs while writing.

“You were saying, Mayor of Hammersmith?”

James shook his head and leaned slightly against the taller man. “You're not appreciative enough of all the things I do for you.”

A shrug of the shoulders was the reply. “I could be. Tonight.”

James pretended to think about that for a moment. “Sounds acceptable. Just.” Then he carefully extracted himself from Jeremy's arms. He put his hand on Jeremy's chest and stopped him walking.

“What?”

“I need a photo of you,” James explained as he fished his phone out of his pocket.

“Not a chance.”

“But you're so sexy and irresistible,” he tried to convince him. Maybe it would have worked if they hadn't known each other so well. If Jeremy weren't able to recognise James' sarcastic tone anywhere, no matter how subtle.

“Funny.” He still refused. “I know that you know how I look naked. And I also know how I look naked.”

James shook his head, and for a moment, both of them were smiling. They really enjoyed being open about their relationship, and they wouldn't have been like this before.

“All right. For a kiss?” James offered, already opening the camera app.

“What do you even need it for?”

“You'll see soon enough.”

“Listen, May, if you need a photo to look at while wanking, I suggest going on the internet instead.” Jeremy deadpanned.

“Come on, man. There are so many videos of you driving about, and I can't even have a picture of my gay lover?” James stepped a little closer, pretty sure that Clarkson would give in very soon.

“For a kiss?” he asked carefully.

“A kiss.”

“I demand payment ahead.”

James shrugged his shoulders. “I agree to the terms of condition, old man.”

Jeremy shook his head. His face had softened, and a smile was playing on his lips. Gently he rested his hand on James' right shoulder. James smiled up to him, thinking that Jeremy looked quite adorable. Of course, he couldn't allow him to take the upper hand. Quickly he moved the phone between their faces and took a picture.

“You bastard!” James heard Jeremy shout over his laughter. He felt Jeremy's hand give him a tight squeeze, but he wiggled free and childishly pretended to run away. “I was promised a kiss!”

James began to laugh out loud as he took a corner and hid, waiting for Jeremy to pass him. He leant against a wall, shaking his head. The photo looked horrid if he was honest. Yes, it had his Clarkson on it, who looked relaxed, a smile playing on his lips and his eyes were actually bright. But the focus was off, the background was more visible than the blurry head that was Jeremy. Iain would have beaten him for the poor quality. However, James couldn't help and smiling at it.

Then he heard some huffing and the sound of footsteps clearly belonging to an overgrown idiot. James peaked his head out of the shadows and saw Jeremy standing in the light.

“Psst, Clarkson.” When he turned, James indicated to follow him. The other man towered over him. James was tugged at his arm and kissed him. Soon Clarkson's hand cupped James' face, and he gently pressed him against the wall.

“ _And this is what's wrong with where you live @JeremyClarkson”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy's tweet [(x)](https://twitter.com/JeremyClarkson/status/539518965362753536) ; James' tweet [(x)](https://twitter.com/MrJamesMay/status/539521732399607808)


	92. Rain

“ _Yes. But @MrJamesMay we are where you live. Drinking wine. At a James Blunt gig,”_ Jeremy replied to the tweet which featured the trickster's photo. They were standing in the queue and waiting to be let it. When James had bought the tickets, he had made sure not to go for the special seats or any VIP treatment.

Jeremy had always told him that he wanted to visit such events just like everyone else. Just like he sat among all the other people when he went to a football match. Most of the time he enjoyed it more this way.

James sighed, and Jeremy turned to face him. “Admit it. I'm better than you are.”

“I'd rather die first,” James replied and put the phone away. Jeremy shook his head, while their queue moved a few steps forward. Then James felt Jeremy's warm hand in his again, he liked that. He really did.

“Jeremy.” James looked around the crowd. Nobody was paying attention. Maybe nobody knew who they were, or nobody cared. Their joined hands were hidden between their bodies.

“Hmm?”

“About that kiss ...” James began carefully.

“What about it?”

“There may have been another reason besides wanting to annoy you why I didn't kiss you.”

He felt a slight squeeze and Jeremy turned to face him. “I understand. I do. Really.”

James smiled softly up at him. The queue moved forward, but they didn't. “Just wanted to make sure.”

Jeremy nodded, he lifted his hand and gave it a gentle kiss. That was fine with James, he needed to get comfortable in public. But a full-on connection of the lips on a well-lit public street? He hadn't been read for that. “No worries.”

“Why don't you have these problems?” James asked quietly.

Jeremy huffed and shook his head. He did, but it didn't matter. “Because they have already written much worse things about me. I can't see how this could do any more damage, and could be twisted in a way that makes me look like an arse. Or at least a bigger arse than I already am.”

Just as James wanted to reply, someone behind them cleared their throat. Only then did James notice that the queue had moved on. “Sorry.” Both men apologised and moved forward.

 

* * *

 

Within a few minutes they were inside the concert hall, making their way past the crowds. They didn't even have seats, just picked a few a nice place among all the people to stand. Slowly the hall began to fill, and it seemed that nobody around them recognised who they were. James let out breath when he came to the conclusion.

Soon the music began. The band was softly playing, and the man of the hour appeared on stage. Both Jeremy and James were far too old to act like the young girls in the front row, who were screaming their lungs out whenever he reached a good part. Instead, they listened and swayed to the beat of the music.

During the course of the evening Jeremy's hand sought out James' again. He held it throughout most of the concert. James moved closer, the music helped him relax.

“ _Said he seen my enemy. Said he looked just like my. So I set out to cut myself. And here I go.”_

He looked at Jeremy who was intently listening and then leaned his weight against him. When Jeremy briefly stole a gaze at him, James was looking at the stage but noticed.

“ _I'm not calling for a second chance, I'm screaming at the top of my voice. Give me reason, but don't give me choice. 'cause I'll just make the same mistake again.”_

Slowly, Jeremy let go of his hand and wrapped his arm around James' shoulders instead. Together they swayed softly and listened to the guitar playing. A smile appeared on James' face, he felt something, something that he had never felt this strong. He couldn't pinpoint it, the way his heart beat with a heavy undertone, a soft feeling settling in his stomach, the warmth of Jeremy keeping him close.

When the song had finished, he felt Jeremy's lips on top of his head. _Was he feeling it too?_ James wondered.

The next song started, and James recognized it straight away. Jeremy had caught him singing that song in the shower, and that had apparently ticked him off that James liked James Blunt as well. James leaned further against the other man, who was wrapping his other arm around his waist. This way James could rest his head on Jeremy's chest.

“ _It's okay, cause I know, you shine even on a rainy day.”_

James closed his eyes, just enjoying everything. He enjoyed the closeness to Jeremy. He enjoyed that he didn't care if anyone saw them. He enjoyed the music. He enjoyed the comfortable and strangely likeable feeling that was settling in his stomach.

“ _And I can find your halo. Guides me to wherever you fall.”_

As he felt Jeremy's lips on top of his head again, he looked up. Jeremy looked relaxed, happy. He was beautiful, in his own way. And James truly believed it. He loved that man. He was an idiot, a very big one. And James loved him, with all of his heart. Jeremy muttered something, but it wasn't loud enough to carry over the music.

“ _If you need a hand to fall, I come running”_

James knew what he had been saying. He wrapped his arm around Jeremy's neck and kissed him. He just kissed him. In full view of a concert hall. _Nobody cares,_ he thought. And most of all, he didn't care.

“ _because you and I won't part till we die.”_

The only thing he cared about was that Jeremy was returning the kiss, pulling him closer. Keeping him in the wonderful warmth as they kept kissing. Just kissing, enjoying the moment and each other.

“ _You should know, we see eye to eye, heart to heart.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy's tweet can be found here [(x)](https://twitter.com/jeremyclarkson/status/539522692882644992), I don't even need to make that stuff up.   
> The James Blunt songs are _Same Mistakes_ and _Heart to Heart_.


	93. Race

Jeremy stood, waiting and shivering slightly. He hadn't quite managed to stay as warm as he had hoped. At least he hadn't lost the race. For that Jeremy was glad.

After-dinner speaking, what a dreadful idea. Who was responsible for this? His car had gotten stuck, and they had had to cut it in half while the crew had assembled the necessary tools just in time to get up that stupid slope. The water had been so fucking cold. His clothes had only just begun to dry and he was still freezing

Soon, another SUV could be heard making its way up the drive.

“Hammond or May? May or Hammond?” he asked into the camera, not sure whom he would prefer.

“May!” he shouted as he began to recognised the vehicle. The car stopped in front of him, and May rolled down the windows. Clarkson had a fit of laughter as he laughed badly as he noticed the dirt on James' face.

“Stop laughing!” James tried to shush him. “Is Hammond here?”

Jeremy shook his head.

“YES!” Then James drove off again, parking his slightly camp car. He jumped out of the car and ran towards Clarkson.

James didn't seem to care for the camera and jumped right into Jeremy's arms. “Easy,” Jeremy replied but hugged him back. The cameramen didn't stop filming, and when Jeremy looked up, he saw their idiotic smiles.

James broke the contact and cleared his throat. Jeremy's only response was a questioning look and a bright smile. Jeremy shook his head. “I know you hate the country side but I didn't realize it was this bad.”

“It is,” James replied.

Jeremy just shook his head, pointing at the mud on James' face. “I can see that.”

In reply, James just rolled his eyes. Then another shiver ran through Jeremy's body.

“Go inside?” James offered and Jeremy just nodded. James guided him inside with an arm around his shoulder.

 

* * *

 

They were seated on a little bench, shielded from the guests' view. Andy had been able to find a little blanket which was now nestling around Jeremy's shoulders.

James had sat down next to him. He kept an arm around him, leaning slightly against him while talking about his adventure in the sheep pen. “The country side really is too much for me.” James concluded. Jeremy was laughing brightly as he finished the story. “The only solution is that we should cement it.”

“Oh not again”

James shook his head and then felt a shiver run through Jeremy's body. “What even happened to you?” At least the shivers weren't so bad any longer. He guessed that Jeremy would be fine again, maybe just catch a cold.

“Ah, you know. The usual: Mud, no wind-shield, ski-mask, cold river, urine soaked trousers, cut car into two.”

“About that second to last bit?”

“No, I won't tell you the truth.” he replied quickly and winked. “I think we should keep some secrets to ourselves.”

James nodded and kissed his cheek. “Agreed.”

“Now, that bit of mud on your face ...” Jeremy pointed at it. “Makes you look really manly.”

For a moment James wasn't sure whether Jeremy really meant it or whether he was teasing James. He decided that it was most likely a combination of the two. He just shook his head and then reached for Clarkson with a muddy hand.

“Oh?” Jeremy asked quietly, noticing what James was about to do. At first it was a gentle kiss, as if to test the ground. Then it turned into something more.

“James ...” Jeremy muttered in between kisses. “What was that out there about?”

For a moment the man pulled back and let out a sigh. James wasn't afraid of speaking in public. He could handle speaking in front people, so he would have been okay had he lost the challenge. It would have been humiliating but not bad enough to jump into Jeremy's arms out of relief.

Even though they had agreed not to hide their relationship any longer, it had been agreed that their relationship wouldn't seep into the show. Even though there was a clip here and there when they were filming a special, but James acting like this was unusual.

“Sorry, Jezza,” James muttered and shrugged his shoulders.

“No, it's all right.” Jeremy replied quickly. “It's just ...” biting his lip, he tried to find the right words. “Usually you're not that affectionate in public.”

“I know. I don't know ...” James broke off, he let out a sigh. He was frustrated with himself that he didn't know what to say. “I just wanted to.”

He left something unspoken. That since a while Jeremy had engrossed himself into work, wanting everything to be perfect. That it had been worse than usual this time, and that he had felt left behind … just a little. He had missed the small touches which had become lost through work.

“You do realize that you use to explanation a lot when it comes to us.” Jeremy teased him, reaching for his hand and giving it a slight squeeze.

“I don't.”

Jeremy pulled a face. “Eh you do. _James, mate, why did you kiss me?_ Oh Jeremy, just because I wanted to,” he explained. “About six years ago.”

Instead of defending himself, James stopped and looked at the older man. There was something shining brightly in his eyes. James found a small smile on his face. “It's really been six years ...” he realized.

“Yeah.” Bright smiles bloomed on both faces. James shook his head briefly, unable to believe it. However, he gladly would. He loved this man, he liked the way things were going. He loved every moment of it.

“Guys.” There was a knock on the door and Andy walked in. “Hammond has arrived.”

Jeremy jumped up, took James' hand and dragged him along. “Come on, I don't want to miss one moment of that. Let's gloat at him.”

 


	94. Rich

“Today?” Jeremy asked, going through all the appointments he still had.

“Yes. Today,” James answered calmly.

Jeremy simply shrugged his shoulders “I can't.”

James let out a breath. He had known that this would happen “Why?”

“I have to be at the BBC.”

“No, you don't.” James began to fidget and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I don't have to be there. Neither do you.”

“That's different. You're not ...” Jeremy cut off.

“What?” Now James was curious. “Important?”

“I didn't say that.” Jeremy let out a sigh. “Neither did I want to.”

James shook his head, he'd let that slide. “You're just looking at places to film that PR event. You're not needed for that.”

“Yeah, but I want to know what it looks like. See if it's perfect.”

“Funny, I was just about to say the same thing about our house,” James muttered before he could think any better of it.

He really wished that this was the first time for them to have a conversation like this. But it wasn't. Dinner dates were cancelled mere hours before. Sometimes they didn't even plan any dates because they had not time at all. That was normal when they were filming. But filming had ended more than a week ago, and still Jeremy couldn't rest for a moment. Or didn't even want to, James wasn't sure …

“James ...” Jeremy began quietly.

“No, don't.”

“I'm sure that whatever you choose will be perfect. If you like it, I'll like it.”

James rolled his eyes. _In which world was that true?_ They didn't even manage to settle on a colour for Jeremy's new couch. “Whatever,” he muttered instead.

“I'm sorry.” Jeremy shrugged his shoulders. “It's important. I'll see you later, okay? Love you.”

James smiled weakly as Jeremy rushed out of the house. The meeting wasn't important, James knew that much. However, Jeremy thought it was … James just wished that he could take a moment or two to spend time together again.

It had been Jeremy's idea that they'd buy a house/pub together, and now he didn't seem to care any longer. Of course James was aware that Jeremy was particularly nervous about this series of Top Gear. After all the bad attention, James could understand that. He just had to be patient. Jeremy would come back around … hopefully.

In the end, James had gone to look at the next few houses by himself. James could list too many things that were wrong with them: They were dreadful. Rubbish. Too old. Too modern. Too loud. Too damp. Not enough space. No garage. They really needed a garage. More than one actually. Garden not big enough. The town was too big. It was too small. This neighbour was an arse. The next neighbour watched Top Gear. The bedroom was too small. There weren't enough rooms in one house. There were too many in the next. Rooms that were too small. Too many stairs. No second floor. James hated them all! He just hated them. He couldn't imagine a life with Jeremy in any of them. Not for a short time, and certainly not for the rest of their lives.

A week later, James had had enough. He put the phone down and saw Jeremy dash past him, car keys in hands.

“Where the hell do you think you're going?” James asked him sharply.

This stopped Jeremy at once. “Have I done something wrong?”

“Where are you going?”

“Meeting with Andy,” he replied carefully. “Production meeting.”

James sighed. “You know that we're supposed to drive out to look at that house in Hashington.”

For a moment, Jeremy frowned, as through he was looking through his mental calender. James' shoulder sagged. Of course he hadn't remembered.

“Shit, James. I have forgotten,” Jeremy apologised. “You can go and look at it without me. It'll be fine.”

“I don't want to!” James plainly stated, just as Jeremy was about to walk away.

“What?”

“I don't want to.” James got on his feet. “I don't want to look at one of those dreadful, shit houses alone.”

“Then don't,” Jeremy simply mumbled.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, it's not that important.”

James huffed, not really believing that Jeremy could mean that.“Is it? It's just not important any longer?” James shook his head. “You know that this was your idea?”

“It's just a house, James.” Jeremy was running out of arguments that sounded reasonable.

“No, it isn't.” James' voice softened. It would be their home. Their pub without the public part. Their little symbol that they'd grow old together. And that wasn't important to Jeremy? “Do you really want to live with me, in a house that you might not like?”

Jeremy shrugged his shoulders. “Sometimes we find something we can agree on. I will like whatever you like.”

“Man, we didn't even manage to pick the food we were going to eat yesterday night!”

“I told you, no curry. It makes you fart in bed.” James' lips twitched up. “It's a bit strong with curry and you.”

“You're not the one to talk about the smell,” James muttered. Jeremy smiled weakly at him and nodded.

“I'm sorry.” This time Jeremy was honest. “I know I've been working a lot lately. I just … I just want things to work this series.”

“Clarkson, there are very professional people working on this.”

“I know.”

“I'm sorry to say this so directly, but they don't need you in every single meeting,” James explained. “I know _Top Gear_ is like a child to you, but you're doing far more than you ever used to. What would today's meeting be about?”

“Air dates.”

“Since when are you needed for that?”

Jeremy just stayed quiet. He had never been. It was Andy who did the talking and tried to squeeze the best deal out of the BBC.

“Go house shopping with me?” James pleaded. “Look at the too tiny bathrooms. Eat a few cookies. Laugh at the locals.”

Jeremy shifted his weight, his hands stuffed into his trousers pockets.

“Please?”

Slowly he nodded. “Okay.” Jeremy stepped towards the man and gave his hand a squeeze.

“Thank you,” James muttered. This was important to him and it seemed that Jeremy was finally beginning to understand just how much.

“I just need to call Andy, then we can go.”

“Don't bother,” James stated. “I already did that.”

 


	95. Coin

“Are you busy?” James looked at his phone under the table.

“Yes.” He typed and sent the message off to Jeremy. The phone stayed quiet.

James started to pay attention at the meeting again. He sighed, wondering what Jeremy's text had been about. After all, Jeremy must know that James was at the _Top Gear_ meeting, discussing the logistics of shooting the last bits of the current series. The only reason why Jeremy wasn't here was that his doctor hadn't had … James muttered a quiet _fuck_. Richard looked at him across the table, frowning, apparently wondering what had caused James' expletive.

James just shook his head, fished his phone back out of his pocket and typed again. “Is it bad?”

The screen didn't even go black before the reply came back. “Yes.”

James swallowed hard, then he looked at Richard, trying to communicate his wish to get out of here. He looked at the producers and slowly shook his head, trying to find the right words. “I … erm ...” They looked at him questioningly. “I just need a few minutes. It's important.”

He didn't bother to give a longer explanation or wait for a reply. James just pushed the chair back, and dialled Jeremy's number while leaving the room.

“James.” He could hear Jeremy's voice. James stopped walking, in one of the many corridors. He wondered if he could find a private space quickly.

“Jeremy,” he began. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, no,” Jeremy replied too quickly. There was a moment of silence. “I don't know.”

“What happened?” James looked around him. Nobody seemed to pay attention to him.

“The doctor … she found something that needs to be checked in greater detail.”

“Okay ...”

“On my tongue. She thinks it might be cancer.”

James swallowed hard. He nodded slowly, only realising too late that Jeremy couldn't see him. However, at that moment he lacked the words.

“Jeremy, I ...” James didn't know what to say. Jeremy was silent as well and James couldn't bear it. “Do you want me to come over?” he asked carefully.

“Thank you, James.” Jeremy let out a breath, he could hear his voice softening. “But I think I'll be fine. It's just … I don't know, I needed to tell you.”

“I understand.” Even as James said it, he knew that it wasn't true. There was no way for him to.

“And nursing me already would be idiotic. We don't even know … what it is,” Jeremy explained, his voice returning back to normal.

“Jeremy, if you need anything ...” James began.

“I know.”

“You know where to find me,” he finished nevertheless.

He could hear an airy laugh the the other end of the line. “I know, May.”

“Good.”

They waited for a moment, wondering if there was anything left to say.

“Are we still on for tonight?” Jeremy asked carefully. They had plans to go to the cinema.

“Sure,” James replied. “Jeremy?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” Jeremy replied

Both hung up, and James returned to the boring meeting. James didn't feel that he had a right to inform anyone about what he had just learnt. It was a private matter. If Jeremy wanted anyone to know, he would tell them himself. So James just sat back down and said nothing.

 

* * *

 

Before meeting with Jeremy at a small restaurant, James had gone home. He had picked up something for the other man, knowing that Jeremy would laugh, call him an idiot, maybe kiss him but take it nevertheless. For James' own credit, he knew Jeremy quite well. His reaction was exactly as James had predicted.

“A lucky coin?” Jeremy asked when his lips left James'.

“Yeah.” James just shrugged his shoulders.

James knew that Jeremy wouldn't have appreciated James approaching the topic first, talking about it before they knew anything conclusive. James would definitely listen if Jeremy started the conversation, but it was unlikely. Nevertheless, James had looked for a way to show his support.

This was the best he had been able to come up with. He was pretty sure that Jeremy had already forgotten but James had received it from him years ago. Jeremy had been very bored and had looked through coins he had received in exchange. He had discovered a very old one, knew that James liked to collect those and had just given it to him.

“Thank you.” Jeremy pocketed the coin. “Tell me all about the boring meeting?”

“All right … on Wednesday after the studio parts we'll drive out to Yorkshire ….”

 

* * *

 

James had never guessed that something like this could happen. He piped up when he saw Jeremy walking in, looking exhausted, annoyed and like shit. Meanwhile, James was sipping on beer. Very good beer, thinking that Jeremy would join him after Jeremy had apologized to a shy pair of fans and had talked to their producer.

James could see that Jeremy was tense and that the conversation seemed strained, but he never expected anything bad to come from that. When Jeremy had began to shout at their producer, James had gotten involved. He had tried to calm him, but his words had gotten lost somewhere in the storm. But when Jeremy had hit their producer, James had sobered up quickly.

“Clarkson!” he shouted at him. This had pulled Jeremy back to reality. His breathing was heavy and he just stared, unsure what to do.

“Come on,” James muttered and tugged at his arm. Jeremy followed, shaking his head … James knew that this wasn't directed at him. “Go up to our room, okay? I'll be right there.”

 

* * *

 

James didn't knock before he walked into their room. He saw Jeremy hunched over his own legs, body propped up his elbows. He was holding the lucky coin in his hand, rolling it, inspecting it, doing anything to keep his hands busy. Jeremy looked up when he heard James enter the room.

“Here.” James placed a cardboard box of chips next to him. “Eat.”

“Not really hungry anymore” Jeremy muttered as he flipped the coin again.

Distantly, James felt that he should be touched that Jeremy carried the coin around with him But right now this was drowned out by feelings that were more immediate.

“Eat!” he ordered sternly. Stern enough to make Jeremy look up at him and frown. Reluctantly, Jeremy pocketed the coin again and began to eat a few chips. James was pacing the room. He didn't really want to be the one to kick this conversation off.

“I don't think your coin works,” Jeremy muttered when he was halfway through the chips.

“Well, it can't work in the face of blatant idiocy!” James snapped. At that, Clarkson flinched visibly.

“Don't you think I know?” he replied sharply.

“Wasn't sure.” James took a deep breath. This was the last thing they needed, they couldn't fight. Even though James felt sober, he knew that the alcohol which was left in his blood made him bolder. Maybe too bold given the situation.

Jeremy was doing also taking deep breaths, he looked at James again. “Is Tymion all right?” His voice was soft, worried.

“Yeah. Worst case would be a split lit.” James sat down next to Jeremy. “You hit like a girl,” he teased him.

A small laugh escaped Jeremy and he shook his head. “Might be a good thing right now.”

James just nodded in reply. He carefully reached for Jeremy's hand and took it in his. He felt Jeremy give him a squeeze.

“I didn't mean to. I don't even know ...” Jeremy shook his head. “I … God, I'm so sorry.”

James let the silence linger. There were no right words in this situation. With his free hand, Jeremy rubbed his face.

“Fuck,” Jeremy grunted. “What if it had been you?”

“What?” James was lost for a moment.

“What if you … what if I had hit you?”

James shuffled a little closer so that their shoulders were touching. “You wouldn't have,” he replied quietly. He knew Jeremy, and that aggressive man out there hadn't been him.

“How do you know that?”

“Because I know you,” James replied quickly. He felt Jeremy give his hand a tight squeeze.

“I've really fucked it this time,” Jeremy muttered. Again James didn't reply, because Jeremy had. James didn't lie to him – he never had, but it wouldn't be helpful right now if James just agreed, either. “Fuck. What do I do?”

To this, James had an answer. “Listen, it was only half as bad. You didn't beat him up. Call him tomorrow, talk to him. Say you're sorry.”

“I am.”

“Good. He knows you're a good person. Or not as bad as you could have been.” Jeremy let out a huff of air. James went on. “He'll understand if you explain it.”

Jeremy nodded in reply. The silence stretched around them. Jeremy was pondering, James was just waiting. He held Jeremy's hand, feeling Jeremy's thumb move in small strokes.

“It isn't an excuse for what I did,” Jeremy began.

“No. It isn't,” James answered. “But it's a reason. Circumstance is important, love.”

A weak smile formed on Jeremy's lips. “This affected me more than I would have liked to believe.”

“Yes.” James knew what he was referring to. The fear that he might have cancer. They still hadn't had an answer, and James had seen that it didn't do Jeremy any good.

“I don't ...” Jeremy broke off, then he tried again. “What if it's positive?”

James took a deep breath. He had thought about this before, considering what they'd do if Jeremy actually had cancer. He would always stay with him, of course. That had been clear to him as soon as Jeremy had hung up the phone. James wouldn't leave him.

“Then we'll do it together. I will naturally poke some fun at you when you lose some weight. But I'll hold your hand, stroke your back and tell you that it'll be all right,” James answered honestly. He rested his head on Jeremy's shoulder.

“Even if I lose whatever is left of my hair?” Jeremy's voice was quiet.

“Even then,” James replied. “I won't leave you, Clarkson.”

He felt Jeremy rest his head against his. James smiled to himself. He hoped that the test would come back negative and that everything would smooth out soon. Maybe everything would be resolved if Jeremy would be honest, and apologise like they had discussed. James tried not to worry. The world couldn't take this away from him too, not at times like these.

 


	96. Rescue

“Please, please,” Jeremy begged. He just begged. He had run. He had chosen to run. He couldn't do it. He just couldn't.

Just locked himself in. Closed the bathroom door and locked it, hoping that nobody would come in. Dialled a number. Begging … just hoping …

“May.”

“I can't do it,” Jeremy breathed, feeling his throat tighten.

“What?”

“I can't do this. I just can't do this!” He was almost shouting by now.

“Jeremy?”

“I just can't!” He felt hot tears running down his cheek. It was near impossible to breath.

“Jeremy. Take deep breaths, love.” James' voice was calm. “Just breathe. All right.”

“Can't.” Helplessly, he leaned against the wall. He tried to take deep and even breaths, but he always ended up choking.

“Count with me, all right?”

Closing his eyes Jeremy nodded.

“One.”

In. Out. In.

“Two.”

Out. In. Out.

“Three.”

In … Out …

“Four.”

In …

“Five.”

… Out.

“Six.”

… in.

“Seven.”

Out …

“Eight.”

… in.

“Nine.”

… Out.

“Better?”

“Yes,” Jeremy muttered.

“Good.” James' voice was still calm. “Want to tell me about it?”

Jeremy shook his head, just the thought of it was already causing new tears to form.

“Are you still at the charity event?”

“Yes.” He smiled weakly. James knew about it, because the original plan had them both attending the even together. It was only natural. However, since the media had gotten a whiff of Jeremy's suspension, they hadn't left him alone. They seemed to be everywhere. Generally, they were open about their relationship, however they knew when something would be timed badly.

“What happened?” James voice was still patient. Calming …

Under normal circumstances, he would have smiled at that. “I just can't do it,” Jeremy muttered. “It's too much.”

Jeremy had chosen to auction off a lap of the _Top Gear_ track, making small jokes that he would be unemployed and arrive in the most rubbish car he could think of. Then he had just cracked, he couldn't do it. He had run and hid, locking himself in in the bathroom.

“It's going to be all right,” James replied. “You know the BBC likes to make a fuss.”

“James …”

“It's only half as bad,” he cut him off.

“James, you don't understand,” Jeremy began. Then he shook his head, he clenching his fist.

“Then explain.” _How could he be so calm all the time?,_ Jeremy wondered.

“I … I feel like I'm … like I'm on my way to execution.” His voice was quiet. “I know the Beeb doesn't make the biggest fuss, but it feels like they're publicly staging my hanging.”

“Jeremy ...”

“I know.”

“No, you don't.”

A small laugh escaped Jeremy. “Then enlighten me.”

“They're not going to fire you, Jezza,” James' insisted. “It's not such a big deal. You feel sorry for it. You tried to deal with it on your own. Hall will understand, okay?”

“You weren't there,” Jeremy cut between.

James just sighed. They'd had this conversation before. Right after Jeremy had given his statement and once back home. In his mind, it hadn't gone well. Before that meeting he had at least tried to make light of the situation, but afterwards he had stopped doing even that. It was hard work for James to keep his spirit up a little bit. It had been hard enough to convince him to go the charity auction without him.

“No, I wasn't,” James muttered. “But you're a good man. You're a valuable part of the BBC.”

“I've fucked it.”

James stayed quiet, contemplating what to say next. “You've given your statement, agreed that it was fully your fault. He'll see that. Maybe some anger management – you can deal with that – and then you'll be back ...”

“I am already on my last warning!” Jeremy shouted. But it wasn't out of anger. He was desperate, and James wasn't listening, he didn't understand ... He rubbed his face, wiping the new tears away. “They'll let me go.”

“Jeremy ...”

“They will,” he muttered. “I don't want to … not like this.”

“Love.”

“James … I just ...” he cut off. He didn't know. He was lost.

“I can come and get you,” James offered, after the silence had become too much to bear.

“No.” His voice was quiet.

“Are you sure?”

“No.”

“Good.” James let out a quiet laugh. “If you had said _yes_ I would have started to worry for real.”

Jeremy smiled weakly. What had he ever done to deserve this poor man? “James … when they let me go ...”

“They won't.”

“Just listen.” Jeremy cut him off. “If … when … whatever … they let me go, you don't have to leave the show just for me.”

“Bullocks! Really, I know that a lot of stupid things leave your mouth, but that's the topper.”

“I know you love _Top Gear_ , and doing it out of loyalty would be … stupid.”

“No, it wouldn't be,” James explained. “Since when is money more important than friendship? Yes, it's all nice and can buy me a couple of Fezzas, but really ...”

Jeremy listened quietly.

“It's your show. And it wouldn't work without you. It just wouldn't work with Hammond, me, and some stand-in-you that is only half the arsehole you are.”

“Still ...”

“Stop talking shite.”

“If I hadn't told you …” Jeremy took a deep breath. “I just couldn't ask you to leave the show because I did something stupid.”

“But you didn't ask,” James muttered. “I'm offering.”

A tear fell down and Jeremy nodded. He let out a shaky breath. “In all this chaos, you're the only thing that keeps me calm.”

“I love you too.”

Jeremy smiled to himself. A shy smile. A quiet smile.

“Go home, Jeremy.”

“Thank you, May.”

“Always.”

 


	97. Jail

James hadn't thought that it would go this far. That a simple mistake could lead to this. He had just posted something on Twitter, and when he wanted to leave the computer, a small message popped up.

> **Sender** : BBC Office

James idiotically hoped that it would say that they needed to film the last two episodes. His eyes scanned the massage that was barely one page long. The message that informed him that the BBC wouldn't renew Jeremy's contract.

After that, he didn't understand the message anymore. He recognised the words, but couldn't take out their meaning. His eyes fell onto the stack of papers, the new contract. It was as good as ready. Feeling numb, he got up. Without thinking, he swiped the stack of papers off the table. They crashed with a thud.

At first, he tried to call Jeremy, but didn't get through. For a moment he honestly hoped that Lord Hall had the dignity to call Clarkson instead of sending an email to him. Instead James sent him a message that he should call when he felt ready. When he needed to. That it would be all right again. That he wished it hadn't happened.

Then he found himself sitting on the sofa, thinking long and hard. But he didn't really know what he was thinking about. Instinct told him to go to Jeremy. To damn all the paparazzi to hell. What was in it for them? Just a good story, something else to sink their teeth in, to turn and twist the words and facts until not even they knew the truth anymore. It was just another story that would fill their pages …And what was in it for James?

Jeremy. Someone who had become so very important over the years. But James just couldn't. Having their relationship forever linked to this? No, he couldn't do it. … He felt numb.

James rubbed his face, not sure where he wanted to go, but when he opened the door he was greeted by many cameras. He stopped in his tracks and realised that even if he wanted to visit Jeremy, he couldn't.

Instead James answered the questions from the media as truthfully as he could. He didn't want to expose too much. He just tried to be honest. Only a few days ago, he had stood there explaining that it wasn't such a big deal. The same words he had told Jeremy. Then he explained again that while yes, Jeremy was a knob, he quite liked him. And publicly he couldn't admit much more. When Jeremy had gotten hold of that article he had sent James a small message, adding that James was a knob too.

Still, instead of walking away, running towards Holland Park, he had chosen to go back into the house. Because he was trapped. They both were … Just popping by to stay for an hour probably wouldn't have caused any more of a fuss than they already had.

However, it was Jeremy … and losing something that equalled a child, James would have to stay longer. A day. A night. A whole week. He didn't know. That would only cause another media outrage. One that they didn't need. One that they most likely couldn't even survive.

James let himself fall onto the sofa. _What were they to do now?_ He wondered. He just didn't know. He really didn't know. A few things were clear to him, broad as daylight: He wouldn't leave Jeremy. He wouldn't continue making _Top Gear_ without him. And Jeremy needed him right now. Maybe not him, maybe he was egoistic. But someone.

Exhausted, he closed his eyes. He just didn't know … he wished that he did. But he didn't. What was he to do about that?

He hadn't realised that he had fallen asleep until the phone vibrated. He had clutched it tightly to him like it was a teddy bear.

“Jeremy?” he asked, picking up. He hadn't read the number.

“I'm sorry.” James heard the familiar voice.

“Clarkson, no, it's … it's all right.” He just fumbled for words. What was he supposed to say?

“I fucked it up.”

James nodded. “Afterwards you did everything right.”

“That's comfort? It still got me shot in the arse.”

James just stayed quiet for a moment. He could understand the shock. Jeremy took a wet breath, and James knew that he was on the verge of tears.

“Jeremy ...” James began carefully. It would be so much easier if they were together. Physically. If James could touch him. Because then he would just take him in his arms. He wouldn't have to say much, because all words that would sound empty across the distance would have meant worlds. Jeremy would have believed them, he would have drawn so much strength and comfort from the touch. “Remember Istanbul?”

“Yes,” he replied weakly.

“Remember when we walked down the main street and you bought me this idiotic jacket?” James still had it. It looked like denim patch-up. It was just dreadful. It had come from a thrift shop – no surprise there - and Jeremy had bought it as a joke. Mostly. “That same day we were walking down the street, while I bored you to death with history and being pedantic.”

“You are.”

“Of course, you have to be,” James defended himself while he felt a tear roll down his cheek. “While you were busy not listening, you looked onto the street. Saw a Lamborghini that made your knees go weak. Quite literally ...”

“I overstepped the curb.” Jeremy laughed quietly. He had done so indeed, and had tripped over his own feet, landing face down on the ground. It had looked painful, but James hadn't been able to stop laughing. Jeremy had been lying face down on the hard ground laughing his arse off as well.

James smiled because his idea had worked. “Yes.”

“May?”

“Clarkson?”

“You're also a knob. But I quite like you too.”

“I know,” James replied softly. He heard Jeremy take a shaky breath, knowing that he was still suffering from the first shock. Maybe he had seen it coming, James didn't know. “Go out on the balcony. Get some fresh air.”

“Will do. Hang on.” There was a little shuffling and ruffling, while Jeremy made his way outside. “There is something I wanted to talk you about.”

“What?”

A moment of silence. “James, I know what you said … I can't let you give up _Top Gear_ because of me.”

“Stop!” James' voice was sharper than he had intended. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves. “How often do I have to tell you?”

“James, I can't ask that of you.”

“You aren't. It is my choice,” James stated firmly. “I've told you before.”

“I know.”

“And I stand by that. Let's take all the emotion away shall we?” James began to reason. “It wouldn't work without you. It just wouldn't.”

The silence on the other end made James wonder whether Jeremy was still on the line.

“I'm not doing it without you,” James simply added. “And yes, there are two reasons. Three strictly speaking. It wouldn't work without you, we're loyal to each other, and I love you. You're not asking, I am offering. I made that choice. I am not making _Top Gear_ without you. That's final.”

“No way I could talk you out of that stupidity?” Jeremy asked carefully.

“Since when have you been able to change my opinion on something?” James huffed.

“I can't say that some part of me isn't glad for that.”

James smiled to himself. “You would have chosen to do the same were, if it had been either of us.” That was true. When the BBC had pushed for them to shoot the studio bits without Hammond after his crash, they had flat-out refused. When they had threatened to sack Richard, it was clear that he and wouldn't do it without him either. Why was it so far fetched that he and Richard would do the same for Jeremy?

“And if it were you, wouldn't you try to talk me out of this as well?”

James took a deep breath. He nodded. _Yes._ “Fair enough,” he told Jeremy instead.

 


	98. Pollution

Their first phone conversation had lasted for three hours. Of course it hadn't taken long until that had appeared somewhere in some website as well, even though James didn't understand it. Surely it was normal for people to have phone calls? He had told Jeremy that if he needed anything, at any time of the day, or night he should just call.

James had a simple system to make sure he wouldn't miss Jeremy's calls, he gave Jeremy's contact the loudest ring tone and left the phone on his bedside table when turning in. But he didn't manage to fall asleep quickly. He stared at the ceiling for a long time. He really wished that he were able to provide more comfort to Jeremy, that there was a way to be near him. He wished that it had ended differently.

But there was no point to dwell on that. He couldn't change how it had ended. The question now was how to move on. Even after a phone conversation with Hammond, he didn't really have any ideas either. It was like they all had been thrown off course. They had been riding along in a fast car and suddenly it had stopped. It just stood there unmoving, all they could do was to try for some damage control. Because there had been damage, and James wasn't sure that they would ever be able to undo it. Maybe they just had to try and fix it in the best way possible.

Jeremy had called twice during the night. He had started with profound apologies on both occasions, and James couldn't really tell what he was being sorry for. Calling so late? Or that all of this had happened?

The first time, Jeremy had been unable to sleep. Which was understandable, but it was past midnight and he must have tried for a long time to get this frustrated. James knew a simple way to lull him into sleep and began to talk to him about aeroplanes. It was a topic that didn't make Clarkson break out in a rant, but he still listened because James liked it. It had the intended effect, and after half a hour, James couldn't even hear little grunts. He listened intently and noticed that Jeremy must have fallen asleep. James knew that he wouldn't hear it, but muttered “I love you” nevertheless.

The second time, it had shaken James out of a deep sleep. It shocked him even more because Jeremy was panicking. He was crying, and James immediately got up, prepared to drive over. He was already picking up the keys when Jeremy calmed down. If only … if only he could be there with him. Just being told about it made James shiver. This time he calmed Jeremy back down with reassuring words. That he wasn't alone, that people were by his side. That he was with him. That Richard was with him and even Andy. That they wouldn't leave him alone through all this. This time it took an hour. When James' head finally hit the pillow again, he knew that the sun was already peaking over the horizon. James huffed. Luckily his window faced West …

When James sleepily dug through breakfast shortly after Jeremy had called again, he had enough. They couldn't continue like this, none of them had slept for more than a few hours. He desperately wanted to do something, but an one-on-one meeting seemed to be impossible.

James sighed, scrolling through his contacts. There was one person he hadn't talked to yet, but who might turn out to be the solution to their problem.

“Wilman,” James greeted him and began to explain his plan.

They needed to meet. James needed to be with Jeremy. He didn't know how, but he knew that Jeremy was at the end of his wits. Words alone weren't helping. Not for Jeremy. Touches were what Jeremy needed to heal. James didn't want him to be alone. He wanted to be with him. Even if it could only be for a short time.

 

* * *

 

Two hours later, James was sitting in the back of Andy's Range Rover, drumming his fingers on his thigh.

“Relax,” Andy tried to sound reassuring, comforting. “Did he call you again?”

James nodded. “An hour ago.” He didn't say what their conversation had been about, but he still remembered Jeremy's voice. Defeated. That was the only way he could describe it. Like Jeremy knew that no matter where they'd go the paps would be there. And that they'd follow him. That's why they weren't able to pick Jeremy up from home.

Two blocks further away from his house, they saw the familiar figure of Clarkson. He was bent over his own bike, locking it. Nobody seemed to have followed him. They probably didn't consider an outing on a bicycle important enough to follow. James breathed a sigh of relief. Good thing.

Andy sounded the horn. Jeremy turned around, and once he registered at which car he had to look, at a weak smile was visible. They pulled up at the curb next to him, and James unlocked the rear door. “Jezza,” he muttered, and Jeremy crawled into the back of the car.

“James,” was all he had managed until he felt James' hands around him. Tightly, so very tightly. A hand wandered to the nape of his neck and stroking him gently. Jeremy's relaxed slowly, his head seeking the nearest source of comfort and digging into James' shoulder. “I …” he never finished what he wanted to say. Instead he chocked back tears. All the emotions wanted to flow out of him, but Jeremy didn't let it happen. Still, James held him tightly. Telling him that it'd be all right. That they'd move on. That Jeremy would manage it. That he should take the time he needed.

“Thank you,” Jeremy muttered when the first shock had worn of. “Where you driving us to, Andy?”

Andy cleared his throat. He had tried very hard not to pay attention, knowing that it was an emotional moment, and that he shouldn't be intruding. “Don't know,” he replied honestly. The only thing that was certain was that they couldn't go somewhere public. After all that would only cause the paparazzi to find them very easily.

“Away from the polluted air.” Andy shrugged his shoulders. “Then back again.” This way they'd be moving.

“Make sure we get back before dusk,” Jeremy huffed. “Don't want my bicycle to get nicked.”

“Understood.”

“James,” Jeremy began carefully, looking at Jeremy's neatly folded hands in his lap.

James shook his head, knowing that another apology was to come. “Don't you dare.”

“... then I won't offer you endless sex,” Jeremy muttered.

James smiled brightly at him, and saw a shy one creeping onto Jeremy's face as well.

“What are we going to do now?” Jeremy asked after the silence became too much for him to bear.

“I won't make _Top Gear_ without you,” James stated firmly. “Hammond won't either.”

“No amount of money?”

“None at all.”

James' hand slipped around Jeremy's shoulder, giving him a tight squeeze. It offered some comfort.

“We could play them,” Andy advised from the front.

“What?”

“A powerplay,” Andy began to explain. “It's our show, Jeremy. They didn't fire you. They didn't ban you. They just let you go. If both James and Richard refuse to make the show without you, then there might be a chance that they decide to bring you back.”

Jeremy snorted and shook his head. “The politically correct and always wanting to do the right thing BBC will not let me return for my own show. Even if they did, they would watch me like hawks, tie me up, remove every sort of freedom, and beat me to shit or rape me in a dark corner when I upset just a single person on Earth.”

James rolled his eyes, but he had to admit that what Jeremy was saying wasn't too far from the truth … “Jeremy ...” He tried, but he lacked the words, and so he didn't say anything at all.

“Listen, I don't care what you do now,” Jeremy just muttered. “I really don't. I just … If you manage to blackmail the BBC into getting me back on _Top Gear_ \- fine, but that won't happen. I don't know ...” Jeremy shook his head and went on. “If something comes up, that's fine too. If not I guess we can start our pub sooner.”

James bit his lip. He took a deep breath. “Jeremy … we lost the house.”

He had gotten the call three days ago, saying that the seller preferred someone else to buy the house instead of them. James had wanted to wait until everything would smooth out to break the news to Jeremy.

“Okay.” Jeremy shrugged his shoulders. “What's one more thing among all this shit?” He laughed weakly, a tear falling from his eyes. James drew circles on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.

“No, really. That's really the smallest thing.” Jeremy's voice was snide. “What was it? My mother died. I got dragged through the mud because of a pun. I got shit for something I mumbled three years ago. I got blamed for a number plate. I had a gun held to my head. I could have lost you. We got thrown out of a country. And now I lose my life's work. What's losing a house in all of this? Nothing.”

“Jeremy … it'll get better,” James muttered helplessly.

“Mostly because it can't get much worse.” Jeremy spat out. “Unless Andy crashes now.”

James winced, he shook his head and pulled Jeremy closer to him. He hugged him, tightly. At first there was no response, Jeremy just allowed the hug. Soon he felt Jeremy shake his head, as if he was telling himself no. “It's all right,” James muttered, kissing the top of his head, his arms wound tightly around Jeremy's shoulders. It didn't take long until Jeremy began to softly cry into James' shirt. Not loud, not whaling, he just let the tears fall. The stress from the last week. Month. Year. Everything needed to get out.

“I've got you,” James muttered, while Andy tried stubbornly focus on the street. It was horrible that Jeremy had been broken enough to fall apart. It was even worse that he was falling apart in front of people.

 

* * *

 

On the way back into London, the Range Rover was quiet. There was only the soft hum of the engine, and the occasional traffic warning on the radio. Jeremy had stilled. Leaning against James in what appeared to be an uncomfortable position. His eyes were closed, his breathing heavy and regular. He was asleep. James had his arms wrapped around him, keeping him safe and warm. He hoped that it would manage to calm him the same way Jeremy always managed to do for him. His hand was evenly stroking Jeremy's thinning curls.

“Jeremy's right.” Andy broke the silence.

James looked up. “Hmm?”

“The BBC won't take him back. Not for _Top Gear_ ,” he stated quietly.

“I won't make it without him.”

“Neither will I.”

A weak smile formed on James' lips. They understood each other.

“Listen, May,” Andy began. “I'm glad he has you in this. If you two ever need … I mean, like this, because of the ...”

“Yeah, understood.”

However, Andy's services as a driver weren't needed again. When they had dropped Jeremy off, he had made the very first joke about the BBC letting him go; after suggesting James should get drunk in the pub (advice he had listened to). James had laughed, both out of humour and relief. If Jeremy was able to joke about this – even if it was a weak joke – he was healing. It helped him.

A week later, when the paparazzi presence had been reduced, James had a surprise. Knowing someone who knew someone, he had been able to borrow a Lexus LFA, one of their favourites, and lured Jeremy out of the flat. Blasting with Jeremy around Holland Park, finally putting the same bright smile on his lips that James had grown used to seeing over the years, the same joy he felt himself. The kind of joy that made Jeremy endure the ungratefulness of the BBC. The same joy that had put him back on track. Trying to look ahead again …

 


	99. Ripe

It wasn't hard to spot him. After so many years of seeing him from almost every angle, he could have spotted him everywhere. Even amidst the crowd of people.

“Hammond,” James greeted him as he came to a halt.

“May.” Richard turned around. “Where's … Jeremy?”

James took a breath and shrugged his shoulders. “I've told him I'd take his stuff with me.” He didn't want to tell Hammond about Jeremy. He was still too stressed, and suffering from the shock and hadn't needed to go back to the office for that, so James had simply offered to do if for him before he could ask him to do so.

“Understood.” Hammond tried a weak smile. It was likely that he knew of the unspoken truth.

Together they walked into the BBC building and took the elevator. There was an uncomfortable silence between them.

“Out with it,” James simply muttered as the doors closed.

Richard let out a sigh. “I … I just never thought that I would end like this.”

“I know.” James shook his head. He hated the way it had ended. However, all the pressure from the BBC, the media … it would have come to an end sooner or later. Maybe sooner, if he was being honest. He wished that there had been a proper way to send off the show; to hand it over to the next generation of Top Gear presenters. Still, he hadn't found it in him to be angry at Jeremy.

“I've talked to Jeremy.” Richard cut through his quiet rambling.

“What did he tell you?” he asked carefully. Through all of these weeks James had known more about Clarkson than Richard.

“That he was sorry.” Richard sighed. “And what the doctor had told him. About that night … I'm glad he hasn't got … you know.”

“Me too.” James smiled weakly. Days after Jeremy's suspension, the doctor had shown him the results: negative. They were relieved, but the relief had come a few days too late.

The doors dinged and James tried to look as normal as he could. “At least it gives you a chance to grow a beard,” he tried to joke.

“Yeah, I like it.” Richard smiled. “What do you think?”

James shook his head. “Makes you look gay,” he teased him.

“You're the one talking.” A familiar smile formed on both their lips.

“I'm going to clean my office first,” James explained as he stood in front of it.

“I'll wait downstairs.”

 

* * *

 

Cleaning his own office had been surprisingly easy. Maybe because the older he got, the more he preferred to work at home. Or maybe because he had never made it into _his_ office. He had placed a few photos here and there, one of them showing the crew in Botswana. He had a few mostly work-related sticky notes and he had kept a pen Jeremy had once given to him, with an idiotic panda bear on top, even though it was empty now. There was a small model of a motorcycle, and he wrapped that carefully in useless notes from the last episode they shot together.

He could still write for the _Top Gear Magazine_ from home, someone had to fill the pages. Andy had been so kind as to fill Jeremy's …

It had taken half a box to clean his rubbish out, but Jeremy's office was different. The man had made it into a small home. Not the furniture, that was probably still from the 1950s, but Jeremy had put up a lot of little things.

Once James stepped inside, deep regret began to linger in his stomach. Normally, he'd walk in here to either torment the poor man, hand him a cup of coffee or ask him if he wanted to stay the night, go to the pub, or … actually just do anything together.

James ran his hand through his hair and moved to the desk. At first he collected the dice Jeremy had kept. He had no idea why those were even here. He undid the post-its and threw most of them away. They were notes for either the new series or what would have been Jeremy's newest column in the _Top Gear Magazine._

He found a few with decent instructions ( _get milk_ ), but he guessed that would have expired. A sad smile formed on his face as one read _Book hotel._ Jeremy hadn't done that, in fact they cancelled their whole trip. He threw it away as it wouldn't do either of them any good. _Buy James something nice,_ read another. He stuck that to the inside of the box.

It was easy to collect the photos, he had on his desk. One of his children, taken the day Emily graduated from College. One of just the three of them, it was very recent. James knew that Jeremy used to keep an older one, now he had replaced it with one taken in Africa. Him and Jeremy were wearing identical shirts with dog tags on it, they looked like shit and hadn't had a proper shower in days. Behind them was Richard's head sticking out. James had to smile. Another photo Jeremy kept on his desk was one showing the entire crew in the Middle East. James put those into the box as well. Even though Jeremy had instructed him that he could throw useless stuff away, he didn't think that these photos counted as such.

James let his gaze wander over the surface. It looked empty without all the small things, no pens scattered around, no pile of finished and unfinished work, no photos, nothing.

After clearing his throat, he looked through the drawers. He started at the bottom, and most of them were empty. Of course, it was just like Clarkson to keep all the work in sight. This is why his desk was often such a mess. He found a notepad in one, a few more pens. Most of them were broken and apparently Jeremy had never heard of a sharpener. James threw them away.

The top one was locked, but James had the key. Inside, he discovered coins for the coffee machine, which he pocketed, better James had it than whoever was following. Beneath the coins, there was an open envelope. It didn't look like it had ever been closed. James took the freedom and allowed himself to look inside and discovered several photos.

Curiosity took over, he took the stack of photos out. They weren't in a chronological order and appeared to have been printed at different times.

James and Jeremy sharing a drink in Vietnam; James and Jeremy lying on a beach wearing stupid sun-hats and glasses – the first holiday they had taken together; Jeremy kissing James' cheek at his home, Emily had taken the photo and Jeremy had hunted her down for it; Jeremy holding onto James as if their life depended on it in a hospital; having dinner in Canada just last year; James having his arm slung around Jeremy's shoulder during their trip to the seaside in electric cars – it had never been screened and James hadn't thought about the cameras at the time -; last BAFTA Nomination and slow dancing in a darkened corner at the after show party, Richard had taken the photo he remembered.

James smiled weakly as he wiped his cheek. “You big old daft cock.”

One box was all that was needed to store Jeremy's 27 years at the BBC. James stepped out of the office. The memories hadn't been made in here, at least not many, but still … he sighed, picked up the box and left _Top Gear_.

Now it was ripe for takeover.

 


	100. Sand

James swam the last few strokes, the water was cooling him down. He stopped at the edge of the hotel pool and peeked around. Only a few crew members were still here, mostly because the sun was already setting. This was James' favourite time in a hot place, when the air tingled, still overall warm but filled with fresh breezes.

Since he didn't plan on tanning, he had always enjoyed staying outside during that time. Just like Jeremy, who was lying on a towel on the sand which surrounded the pool, making it look like a beach. When James had left his side, he had still a book in his hand, head propped back. Now his eyes were closed, his breathing deep and regular.

James smiled softly. He had never thought that he'd think that things would be better after the BBC had let go of Jeremy. But they were, ever since they had lost _Top Gear,_ Jeremy had made minor tweaks to his life. He played tennis, even though it had taken a while for James to convince him to keep at it when he had put out his back, he relaxed more easily, and they were house shopping again after they had lost the first one.

Now he was even cutting down on alcohol, and in a way to support him James had joined in. The smoking wasn't as bad as everyone seemed to think, Jeremy only smoked with each meal, and one in the afternoon. At their age, having smoked for so long, and looking back on various failed attempts to quit, they had just given up on that issue.

James waded out of the pool and towelled himself off. He wasn't able to pinpoint the exact moment _Top Gear_ had become this all consuming entity. Jeremy hadn't always been so deeply involved when it came to the show. It had happened slowly. The summer had been restless, he had wanted to do something, anything at all. But it had always been this way. James was the same. However, the moment it became alarming was after Argentina. Jeremy had become almost obsessed. He didn't want to do anything wrong, had put himself under a lot of stress to achieve that … and naturally if you work too hard on something it often goes wrong. At least this way, the spotlight on them wasn't as bad anymore. Or at least _Top Gear_ wasn't … the media still tried to create a headline out of every tiny thing they did.

James lowered himself next to Jeremy and gently wrapped his arms around his body. With a sleepy noise, Jeremy rested his head comfortably on James' arm.

“Sorry, were you asleep?” James muttered and kissed the top of his head.

With a small smile, Jeremy shook his head and turned. “Only a little.”

Jeremy rested his hand on James' shoulder and gently traced the scar with his fingers. He kissed him briefly before turning over. James spooned up with him and left a soft kiss on his shoulder.

“Good swim?” Jeremy asked, closing his eyes again. He enjoyed the shadow, the warmth that was still lingering around. He enjoyed the comfort that came from James' embrace and also the cold skin.

“Yeah,” James muttered closing his eyes as well. “Jeremy?”

“Hmm?”

There was a pause before James replied. “I love you.”

Jeremy nodded, he knew that of course, but had been a while since James had been able to say so. “And I love you,” he replied softly, giving James' arm a squeeze.

He was glad to be back in James' arms. Neither of them had wanted their relationship linked with the fracas. And with the media watching their every move, Jeremy and James had hidden their relationship again. But the interest had finally died down, and South Africa had legalized same-sex marriage a while again, so it wasn't dangerous for them to be more open about about it. Therefore the old habits had kicked back in.

“Hmm, James?” Jeremy turned over, lying on his back. “The estate agent called.”

At that James opened his eyes and propped himself up on his arms. “Huh?”

“She said that _surprisingly_ our payment checks out, not bad for two unemployed people.” A wide smile formed on Jeremy's face.

“Does that mean the house is ours?” he asked carefully.

Jeremy nodded in reply. “We could open our pub soon.”

James smiled; he bent down and kissed Jeremy gently. He felt Jeremy's hand wander to his cheek and stroke it. When they broke apart, both were smiling happily.

“I could use a swim, if I'm honest,” Jeremy muttered.

James detached himself from the other man. Then he got to his feet, offered Jeremy a hand and pulled him up as well. Jeremy slipped out his t-shirt he followed James to the pool. James smiled brightly, _maybe this wasn't so bad after all,_ James considered. They were getting their house, the tour was going well, along with their new deal and Jeremy was relaxed. The word childish was only added to the mix when he jumped into the pool next to James, making sure to get splashed on him.

They were swimming along the length of the pool, switching between breaststroke and backstroke, talking and laughing. After a while, Richard called them inside with a smile and a roll of his eyes; the crew wanted to go out to celebrate the success in Johannesburg.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one chapter to go ☺


	101. Print

 

###  **May and Clarkson heading for TopGayGate - Daily Mail**

“ _The world seems to have turned upside down. The former Top Gear presenters James May (53) and Jeremy Clarkson (55) - who was sacked from the BBC - are having a gay affair._

_The pair was spotted in Johannesburg lying side by side at the hotel pool. Both were spotted wearing swimming trunks and Clarkson also sported a washed-out white shirt. Then James May was seen taking place next to his gay paramour Jeremy Clarkson. They were photographed kissing each other._

_First May was seen wrapping an arm around Clarkson, while lounging in the pool area of the hotel. While they whispered some words they were seemingly unconcerned about decency. Afterwards they headed for the pool._

_In 2011 the_ Daily Mirror _sparked a rumour that they already had a liaison back then. The entanglement had never been confirmed until now._

_Their representatives were contacted for a comment. ”_

 

 

###  **Jeremy Clarkson Turns Gay – Daily Mirror**

“ _Photos show former_ Top Gear _presenter Jeremy Clarkson (55) and his friend James May (53) in compromising positions. The pair was papped while enjoying a day near the pool of their luxury hotel in Johannesburg._

_May, who is wearing simple swimming trunks, is seen putting an arm around Clarkson, who appears to have turned gay. The kiss between those ageing men took place in full view of the hotel, without regards for anyone having to observe their inappropriate performance._

_After showing off, the pair enjoyed a noisy swim in the pool. Later the third presenter, Richard Hammond, appeared near the pool area and seemed to disapprove of their stunt._

_Back in 2011, we reported that they had stepped out together. So far neither of the parties have commented on the issue._

_This behaviour shows that the illicit affair is not permanent. If Clarkson had turned gay and would be serious he should have come forward earlier. After all homosexuals enjoy the same treatment as heterosexuals these days, and he didn't have to fear any backlash. Instead, the recently sacked presenter chose to be secretive about their dalliance._

_Of course, it is ironic that such a man as Clarkson should turn out to be homosexual. He has been accused of homophobia various times – including the usage of “ginger beer” (which is rhyming slang for queer) when referring to a car - along side of accusations of racism and sexism. An unnatural hatred of the gay community is not uncommon for repressed homosexuals.”_

* * *

 

Jeremy let out a sigh, then he appeared to turn his attention back to his breakfast. The new puppy looked up as Clarkson cursed loudly.

“Jezza,” James muttered softly. He wanted to reassure him and stepped behind him to squeeze his shoulder. Then he went to the small puppy and stroked it calmly until it settled down again.

“Do you have a name for it yet?” he asked, watching as the small pup closed its eyes.

“No,” Jeremy replied. “You know, when I said that the media would make _a mess of it_ I didn't think that they could make such a big mess!”

James turned around and walked back to the kitchen table.

“What is this shit?” Jeremy asked, upset, handing the paper over to James “I mean what the fuck do they mean with repressed homosexuality!?”

James knew that Clarkson wasn't very sound when it came to queer things and took the question literally, trying to explain it quietly. “It's when you don't know or deny that you ...”

“I know what it means!” Jeremy raised his voice again. “I'm not fucking repressed. I always knew that I also liked men. I just didn't act on it! There is a fucking difference!”

James sat down in a chair next to him. He reached for Jeremy's hand.

James didn't even think about suggesting that Jeremy should make that public. Someone's sexual orientation was a very personal thing, and the media wasn't in any way entitled to know about it unless someone wanted to reveal it.

Jeremy wasn't a big fan of labels in general, not drawing the same comfort from it that they provided to James. But if people absolutely had to label Jeremy – and James -, then they should at least do so correctly.

But both of them were starting to doubt that the word 'bisexuality' even existed for the press.

Jeremy let out a sigh. “And what's that shit about us not being _fixed._ Fucking hell, they all have at least 20 paparazzi in front of our houses. They should know that you're currently here with me.”

“Jeremy ...” James began carefully. The media would print whatever they wanted to print. And right now that was that Jeremy had turned gay, and that their apparent relationship was just a fling which Jeremy would inevitably throw out of the window sooner or later.

“I know. I'm getting worked up about something I can't change.”

James smiled weakly and gave his hand a squeeze.

“Who did you talk to … on the phone?” he asked after a while. Jeremy's voice had woken him up earlier, and judging by the tone of his voice he hadn't been talking to his family or friends.

“Oh … employer,” Clarkson explained.

“Everything all right there?”

“Yeah. The _Sunday Times_ is leaving my contract the way it is,” he began to explain. “ _The Sun_ suggested to pause my writing until this has died down, then I'll be back on my old contract.”

“Good.” James smiled at him.

However, Jeremy couldn't return the smile.

 

 

###  **“I always knew he was gay” - Clarkson's Ex-Wife Explains The Reason Of Their Divorce – Daily Mail**

“ _After last week's news that the former_ Top Gear _presenters James May and Jeremy Clarkson appear to be in a gay affair, Clarkosn's first ex-wife has opened up about the reason of their divorce._

_Alex Hall – Clarkson's wife in 1989 – has stated that she had always seen that her husband didn't appear to be interested in her._

_> >I think that he loved me. However, it wasn't like a marriage. Sometimes I felt like he was more my brother<< she stated. >>I didn't know what to do. He looked at men, but not at me. Sometimes we would sleep together, but it felt like he was just fulfilling his duty. Soon I couldn't stand it any longer. Hence I sought out other men who would give me what I needed.<<_

_Mrs Hall expressed surprise at Clarkson's anger after he had found out that she had gone to others. She had expected him to be more understanding given the state of their marriage. She also said that she would have agreed to a sham marriage._

_She also added: >>I think he never really knew about his own disposition until after his second divorce. He was compensating with having two women at the same time.<<_

_Mrs. Hall is referring to their alleged 7 year affair – always denied by Clarkson – during his marriage to Frances. (sic)_

_She stated that she is glad that he seemed to be at peace with himself now. >>Though it seems he just went with the safest option after losing everything. He tends to do that.<< _

_Still, she wishes the couple well, and she hopes that May is aware of what he has gotten himself into._

_Second ex-wife Frances (sic) was asked if Clarkson's alleged homosexuality had anything to do with their divorce. She replied strictly with no. Afterwards she threatened to call the police and refused to answer any more questions.”_

 

 

###  **Jo’burg turns to man’s best fiend — but he’s no match for my 12-bore – The Sunday Times  
**

**by Jeremy Clarkson**

“ _As many people may have heard in the news lately, I went to South Africa with some friends of mine. Nothing noteworthy happened between us. However, there was an incident that captured my attention:_

_A motorway on the outskirts of Johannesburg. It’s 10 at night and up ahead the hard shoulder is a discotastic blizzard of blue lights. As we draw near, we see three police cars, a lorry and quite a lot of uniformed men leaning on things. [...]”_

 

* * *

 

Running away had been James' idea. He had seen the shadow settle over Jeremy's face as the days went on and the media kept on printing about them. They had refused to comment, going by the principle that their private life was private. Furthermore, they really couldn't understand why a week after this had happened it was still causing a fuss.

James had tweeted a little something, expressing these views in his own way.

However, as the media lacked new information, their theories just got more absurd. They also turned more vile over time. What made it even worse, however, was that they only targeted Jeremy. Not James, because James had always had the image of being a bit gay. Hence there seemed to be little surprise that James was involved with a man. But Jeremy seemed to be a mystery to them, and the theory that he was a repressed homosexual had just been the tip of the iceberg.

While James saw the support that had come from the fanbase, Jeremy couldn't see it. He only saw the two messages out of a hundred which called them _wankers, a shame, fuckers, a sick abnormality_ and even _fags._ James had tried to comfort him by saying that the fag insult must have come from an American, and that surely wasn't someone Jeremy would ever listen to.

It was no good.

The paparazzi were always there, looming in front of their houses. Jeremy taking out the trash was fascinating.

Then they shouted questions. _How long have you been fucking? Did you leave your wife for James? Has James always bee gay? Have you always been gay? Which one bums the other?,_ just to provoke a reaction.

In private there had been anger, however, when the rumour mill didn't die down, the anger turned into frustration.

Jeremy had limits, and the attacks of the media had already stretched them during and after the fracas. Not enough time had passed for him to be able to stand this sort of stress again.

James had been looking for a way out of this. They had come back from South Africa and had to go right into the mess that the yellow-press was creating. James had almost forgotten until midday when he remembered their house. He made the preparations and was content that it would work out.

“Jeremy.” James gently ran his hand along Jeremy's arm, trying to wake him up.

“Hmm?”

“Wake up,” he muttered and kissed the top of his head. “We're running away.”

“Pardon?” Jeremy blinked himself out of sleep, then turned onto his back facing James.

“We need some time away from all this shite,” James explained. “I've talked to our estate agent. We haven't sighed the purchase contract yet, but she'll give us the keys, we can stay in our house slash pub.”

Jeremy squinted, and after he realized what James was suggesting, he began to smile. “Rumour has it that I love you,” Jeremy stated, and James was glad to see even a small smile on his lips.

“That's the only rumour I'll believe,” James replied and kissed him briefly.

James left for his own house, he needed to pack. Neither of them wanted to return within the next two weeks. While Jeremy walked with James to his car, he carelessly placed a hand on his shoulder to bid him goodbye. This caused a fuss.

Especially, since someone had followed James to their meeting point. Jeremy was waiting in his Mercedes and James met up with him in the Ferrari. Jeremy could spot the idiotic VW Golf Diesel in the rear-view mirror and knew that it wasn't an ordinary car, heading their way by accident.

They lost him quickly. All these years working for a car show had some advantages!

 

 

###  **Jeremy Clarkson, he can't do anything right – The Independent**

“ _A little more than a week ago, definite proof surfaced that the former_ Top Gear _presenters Jeremy Clarkson and James May are a couple._

_While this may sound off at first, their relationship appears to be true and honest, which has sparked various responses. The majority of the fanbase seemed to take it kindly, wishing them luck and sounding support._

_However, the response from the media hasn't been as welcoming._ The Daily Mirror _might bemoan the loss of its second-favourite hobby, writing about Clarkson's apparent homophobia, but they shouldn't worry too much. They could still write about the alleged racism and misogony. No media outlet seems to be able to take a kind stance on the matter._ The Sun _seems to have let go of Clarkson,_ The Sunday Times _is yet to comment._ The Daily Star _went so far as to suggest that the whole relationship was a publicity stunt._ The Daily Mail _has chosen to write vile words after both Clarkson's and May's representatives declined to comment._

The Daily Mirror _claimed that the grave face Clarkson wore in the morning was due to trouble – that their relationship wasn't strong enough to last – and didn't consider that it might be connected to the hoard of paparazzi which have been installed in front of the two men's houses for the last two weeks._

_The only comment by either of them has come from May, who tweeted >>The papers thinks that this is news.<< with a photograph of a newspaper attached. Clarkson hasn't tweeted since their return from South Africa. _

_Friend and colleague Richard Hammond also tweeted >>The Daily Mail seems to think that this is news to me. Trust me, it isn't.<<_

_In what appears to be an attempt to flee the hoard of paparazzi, Clarkson and May have been seen leaving London. Their current whereabouts are unknown._

_However, neither of these men are wrong. Is their relationship really as newsworthy as it's been treated? There is an obvious elephant in the room: if one of them wouldn't be a man and it would be a heterosexual relationship, would it have occupied the media for so long?_

_They are two men though and no matter whether they're bisexuality, straight with an exception, or have been homosexual all along but repressed it, we're not the one to judge that and it's none of our business. Apparently, the man just can't do anything right, even when it comes to love. He tries to keep this quiet and gets condemned for it._

_You may not like Jeremy Clarkson, or James May, or both of them. But that is no important to the fact that the media is treating their relationship the wrong way.”_

 

* * *

 

Their house/pub wasn't very well furnished yet. The former owner had taken most of the things with her. They only had the basics, but so far that hadn't caused any complaints. James wasn't sure if he should be glad for that, or worry that Jeremy didn't complain. A man who earned his money for having opinions …

They had fresh and warm water, electricity, a kitchen which they would replace eventually, and a big mattress instead of a proper bed. They had no internet, apart from their mobile connection, and no television. This might even be a good thing, James hoped.

“Is this what it would have been like if I had gone to university?” Jeremy asked as he settled on the mattress with a small groan.

“Most likely,” James muttered, leaning back.

At least it was a warm night, he thought. They only had a thin blanket. However, given that they were two grown men, they would provide quite a lot of heat themselves.

“Back then, this would have been called experimenting,” Jeremy joked as he rested his head on James' chest.

“Mmmh.” James kissed the top of his head. At least his humour was returning.

“Did you … experiment?” Jeremy asked carefully.

“It's only called experimenting if you discover that you don't like to play in the same field.”

Jeremy let out a laugh and kissed James. James let his hand wander to Jeremy's cheek and gently stroked it.

“Anyway, I had known for some time before that I might be drawn to the other side as well,” James explained.

“Fair enough. Me too.”

James smiled and nodded. “Although I did discover that there was a word for it at university.”

“Only then?” Jeremy propped himself up on his arms.

“You're the one talking. You didn't know about the word bisexuality until I told you that it applies to me.”

“All right. I get it.” James wasn't wrong though.

Jeremy settled back on James' chest. He let out a comfortable sigh.

“Since we have a rule that I can throw every awkward question back, did you experiment?” James asked.

“I didn't go to university,” Jeremy avoided the question.

“Funny.” James gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Come on, out with it.”

“May, mate, I went to an all boys-boarding school. I was already in enough shit because I came from Yorkshire. You can imagine how that would have gone down,” Jeremy replied, his tone quiet.

_Not well,_ James answered himself.

Just like James himself, Jeremy had grown up in the north, and at the time of their youth, it would have been unwise to say the wrong thing. Therefore it shouldn't come as a surprise to him that Jeremy had never acted on his attraction towards men until a safer option – James – came along.

James kissed the top of Jeremy's head and closed his eyes. “Good night.”

“Night.”

 

* * *

  
The next morning, James woke up alone in their 'bed' to his relief he discovered that his back was still in one piece. He rolled onto his side, and with more groaning he managed to get on his feet.

He reached for his phone, and saw that he hadn't missed any calls. When he checked the protocol, he saw that there actually were quite a few missed calls, but since he had blocked any unknown numbers, it hadn't shown before. James let out a sigh. He wasn't interested in those kind of calls anyway. Instead, he went to search for Jeremy.

For a moment, he wondered if Jeremy had bolted to hide from all of this. The first clue that Clarkson even existed in this house was residue of a smoked fag in the ashtray. Then James looked out of the window and saw the white little puppy jumping around the grass.

James made two cups of coffee for them - as best as he could - and headed for the garden. He had always wanted a big garden, James mused. It had been one of the things on their _must have_ list.

“Jezza,” he greeted his partner, seeing him leaning against the wall on their little front porch, James' cat on his lap, purring contentedly as Jeremy petted him. He was happily rubbing his head against Jeremy's belly, enjoying his big hands. Over the years, through the near-constant contact with Fusker, Jeremy's allergic reaction had lessened.

“Morning,” he greeted James.

“What are you doing here?” James asked as he sat down next to him and put the cup of coffee within Jeremy's reach. The other man was currently busy with cat duties to hold a cup.

“Walking the dog,” Jeremy simply stated and pointed at the white puppy which was happily playing with a daisy.

James laughed and kissed Jeremy's cheek. Of course they had taken their animals with them. James didn't want anyone to fight their way through paparazzi just to feed his cat, and the puppy was too little to be left alone for a long time.

The cat stretched a little and then padded off Jeremy. It sat between the two men and then chose to rub against James' feet.

“Bounce is nicer,” Jeremy stated and reached for the cup of coffee. “Thanks.”

“Mmh.” James began to pet the cat's head. At least their two animals were getting along. Bounce had quickly grown fond of Jeremy's little puppy. It was only fair given that Jeremy had gifted the cat to him at Christmas.

“I've talked to some neighbours,” Jeremy began, not that they had many. Their little pub wouldn't get very popular given that the amount of people who lived here was barely a four digit number. That, however, had been intended. “There is a little shop, it's a 10 minute walk. You know, for the basics: beer, gin, fags and pornmags.”

“Good.”

They didn't worry too much about the other inhabitants of the village. While looking for a suitable house they had made sure that they wouldn't end up in a homophobic town. This one was good, they were gay-friendly in the way that James and Jeremy enjoyed. They had no pride parade or made everything into a big deal. They just treated them like there was nothing special about it. This was also confirmed by the two other gay couples who lived here.

Furthermore, it meant that neither of them was worried enough that someone might call the yellow-press and spill their whereabouts.

“How are you feeling?” James asked carefully as Bounce began to walk away from James as well.

Jeremy shrugged his shoulders. He knew what James was referring to, of course he did. “Dunno.”

 

 

###  **Live** **Show Is Still On – Daily Mail**

“ _This morning the creative director of_ Clarkson, Hammond and May Live _Rowland French confirmed to us that the live shows are still on schedule. Nothing about them will be changed. Furthermore, he stated that there had never been any doubt from the fans or anyone involved in the show regarding its continuation._

_The upcoming shows will take place in Australia, Warsaw and London._

_The whereabouts of James May and Jeremy Clarkson are still unknown. The pair has apparently left London in two different cars a week ago. “_

 

* * *

  
Jeremy lay another word on the scrabble board. He took a sip of his coffee and waited for James' move. They had managed to get hold of some chairs and a table. This way they had something to sit on. Slowly, the house was being filled with furniture.

There was no big furniture store in the area, however as soon as their neighbour Mrs. Flannigan had noticed that they were lacking the essentials, she had set out to talk to James, while he was out in the garden, trying to figure out the best place to plant roses.

“You're the May one?” she had asked and James had turned around. She was an elderly woman, most likely not too familiar with their television careers.

“Yeah.” He stretched out his hand. “James May, the fatter one is Clarkson.”

At first they had stuck to small talk until Mrs. Flannigan had stopped beating around the bush. James had confirmed here belief. They had rushed out of London and their house wasn't well furnished as they had only signed the papers a few days ago.

Furthermore, they didn't want to be seen in public as it was currently a bit too much for them. The lady had agreed, pointing out the visible strain on James' face. That had taken him by surprise. During all these recent events, he had simply focused on Jeremy and it had never occurred to him that he was also suffering from the attention.

However, the old woman had an idea. Because her children always gave her their used furniture, she still had some items that she could gift them. But they wouldn't feel right just accepting the gift. They were rich enough so they didn't have to worry, and so they had settled on buying the things from her. Their new furniture included: chairs, tables, beanbags, a pinboard, warmer blankets, some pots and more towels. Sadly she didn't have a bed that was long enough to fit even one of them, let alone both.

“What do you think about this?” Jeremy asked after he had laid the next word.

“It's shite,” James stated, and he meant it quite literally. “You spell it with an 'E'”

“No, not my word.” A small smile formed on Jeremy's lips. “Thanks for that though. I meant … In all of this, you've been worried sick over me. But I've never asked for your opinion.”

James looked up from studying the letters he had left. “That's because you know that I agree with you.” He laid another word. “God help me. I just said that.”

Jeremy laughed quietly, he counted James' points and wrote them down. A few years ago - after The Great Scrabble War - they had chosen that the opposite party would add up the points. This way nobody could be accused of cheating.

“Jeremy, I do agree with you,” James stated again, this time more serious. “If we want to tell them and the world is interested then that's another matter. But that isn't the case right now. Hence it is none of their business. What we do in our private lives is just that: private. We don't have to tell them that we're bisexual, or when we first kissed, how long we've been together, or who takes it up the arse. They're in no way entitled to know any of it.”

Jeremy smiled softly at him. He nodded, and then looked down to lay another word.

“Would you even consider this if you were with a woman?” James asked, after they had played silently for a few rounds.

“No. I'd tell them to fuck themselves and ignore it.” Jeremy stopped halfway through his new word (A-L-F- ). “I just never realized that it might cause such an uproar.”

“It's dying down,” James calmed him. He tapped at the board to remind Jeremy to finish the word.

“I know.” Jeremy put the other A on the board. “But it's not the same … I mean you're a man, I am a man. As much as I wish that it was treated the same way as a man-woman relationship, and maybe I even believed that the press might react like that; it isn't and they didn't. I was just too ignorant to notice.”

James took a deep breath, then he reached across the table and took Jeremy's hand in his. “No, it isn't treated the same way.”

Jeremy let out a sigh. He looked at James, a weak smile forming on his face.

“Do you want to make a public statement?” James asked.

“I don't know,” Jeremy admitted after a while. “Probably wouldn't be something that would make them happy, I guess. Just help them to spell out bisexuality or something.”

“Oh, thanks for that,” James muttered under his breath as he took two letters and placed them on the board, attaching B-I to the beginning of C-Y-C-L-E. “Agreed, but how? Do you want to give a whole interview just on being bi and with me?”

“No, you know that.” Jeremy shook his head. “There isn't much to explain.” He added up the points for James' word. The letters he had left weren't much good. “Also, the yellow-press is hopeless. It's just … the fans are … good. I don't mind them.”

“You've been on Twitter?” James asked. He had been on there as well; the fans sounded the support most of all. Sometimes a shy question crept in between.

“Yeah, and you were right. I should listen to you.”

“You really should.” James smirked. “You wouldn't mind answering their questions?”

“No, not really. If they're not too detailed,” Jeremy explained and shrugged his shoulders. Then he laid a word, hoping that James would accept it. It was misspelled. “They're not trying to find a good story.”

“Then write it on twitter,” James suggested.

“Really?”

“Yeah. It's always been the way you communicated certain things.”

Jeremy nodded. He fished out his phone to do just that before having to admit that James was right for the second time of the day. While Jeremy was trying to formulate a decent tweet, James was contemplating which word he could lay next. He wasn't fairing very well with two X's.

“Read.” Jeremy handed over his iPhone. James put on his glasses.

“That's too long.”

“It's a draft. It'll end up with two tweets,” Jeremy explained. “You're hopeless.”

“It's good,” James replied.

As Jeremy took his phone back, James began to lay out his new word. He was quite proud of it, even though he was cheating a bit.

 

 

 

 

 

> **Jeremy Clarkson**  
>  @JeremyClarkson  
>  “I'm very grateful for all the support over the last weeks. Thank you.”
> 
> **Jeremy Clarkson**  
>  @JeremyClarkson
> 
> “Especially nice to see that people know how to spell bisexuality.”

 

When Jeremy put his phone aside, he saw James point at the board. “Add it up and weep.”

“That doesn't count!” Jeremy protested.

“It does.”

“You've just added your two x's to the word “the”!”

“That's a band, you old fart!”

“Yeah, I know. But I also didn't spell XY.”

“I would have let you.”

“Come off it!”

 

 

###  **Clarkson, Hammond and May in Perth – The Sydney Morning Herald**

“ _The last show of_ Clarkson, Hammond and May Live _in Perth has come to an end. The audience cheered and offered the group a standing ovation. [...]_

_The show was still the same it had been before news broke the two co-workers are in a relationship._

_A week before the Australia leg of the tour, Jeremy Clarkson had thanked people in a tweet for all the support and everyone who was able to spell the word “bisexuality” correctly. This tweet was retweeted by May, who has also written a thank-you tweet._

_When asked about it, Jeremy Clarkson casually replied >>We didn't think that two fat men being together could cause such a fuss,<<_ _before he was called away by his partner James May.”_

 

* * *

 

Jeremy was lying on the couch of their new house, his head resting on James' lap, who had his arm wrapped around Jeremy. He used the arm James had wrapped around him to prop up his book. Meanwhile, James was sitting upright, and scrolling through his iPad when he suddenly started to laugh out loud.

Jeremy frowned and looked up at James. The man just shook his head. “What?” Clarkson asked helplessly no idea what had caused that. “What? What's so funny.”

James cleared his throat. Maybe he shouldn't tell him, it had taken Jeremy a while to adjust to their relationship being public now. And who could hold it against him when the media had dragged him through all this.

Still, he saw the sparkle in Jeremy's eyes and told him “The Mirror thinks we should be more affectionate towards each other.”

At first, Jeremy frowned, then he began to laugh out loud. James joined in full-heartedly.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

>    
>  **Lilly**  
>  @phodilusbadius
> 
> “Wondering how long @JeremyClarkson & @MrJamesMay have been together.”

 

 

 

 

> **Jeremy Clarkson**  
>  @JeremyClarkson
> 
> “@phodilusbadius @MrJamesMay soon, 7 years.”

 

 

 

 

> **James May**  
>  @MrJamesMay
> 
> “@JeremyClarkson @phodilusbadius dreadful.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am just so astonished that this story resonated with people. Realistically I never expected more than 25 kudos...  
> At this point it's very important to thank my lovely beta! This would have been a different story had Jez and James gone Article Exploring.  
> I have to thank all of you too for sticking through this, and leaving a comment here and there which kept me motivated to keep publishing.  
>   
> Edit 12.08.2016: An [unnecessarily tall person](http://sovotchka.tumblr.com/) made some fan-art based on her favourite prompts.[ I urge you all to check it out :) ](http://sovotchka.tumblr.com/post/148496416461/slowly-jeremy-let-go-of-his-hand-and-wrapped-his)


End file.
